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trst  danadians 


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"he     is     a     man     after     my     own     heart!''     exclaimed     MADAME 
COUILLARD 


THE   FIRST  CANADIANS  IN  FRANCE 


F.   McKELVEY   BELL 


THE 

FIRST  CANADIANS 
IN  FRANCE 

THE  CHRONICLE  OF  A  MILITARY 
HOSPITAL  IN  THE  WARZONE 

BY 
F.  McKELVEY  BELL 


ILLUSTRATED   BY 
CHRISTOPHER   FULLEYLOVB 


NEW  YORK 
GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


V^^ 


COPTKIGHT,  1917, 
BT  GEOEGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANT 


PRINTED  IN  THE  TTNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA 


TO 

SLRGEON-GENERAL  GUY  CARLETON  JONES,  C.M.G. 

AND  TO 

THE  CANADIAN  MEDICAL  SERVICES  OVERSEAS 

THESE  PAGES  ARE  DEDICATED 

The  wise  and  skillful  guidance  of  the  former  and  the  efficient 
fulfilment  of  onerous  duties  by  all  have  given  to  the  Canadian 
Medical  Ser\'ice  a  status  second  to  none  in  the  Empire:  The  sick 
and  woimded  soldier  has  been  made  to  feel  that  a  Military  Hospital 
may  be  not  only  a  highly  scientific  institution — but  a  Home. 


PREFACE 

In  glancing  through  these  pages,  now  that 
they  are  written,  I  reahse  that  insufficient 
stress  has  been  laid  upon  the  heroism  and  self- 
sacrifice  of  the  non-commissioned  officers  and 
men  of  the  Army  ^ledical  Corps — the  boys 
who,  in  the  dull  monotony  of  hospital  life,  de- 
nied the  exhilaration  and  stimulus  of  the  firing 
line,  are,  alas,  too  often  forgotten.  All  honour 
to  them  that  in  spite  of  this  handicap  they  give 
of  their  best,  and  give  it  whole-heartedly  to 
their  stricken  comrades. 

The  pill  of  fact  herein  is  but  thinly  coated 
with  the  sugar  of  fiction,  but  if  the  reader  can 
get  a  picture,  however  indefinite,  of  military 
hospital  life  in  France,  these  pages  will  not 
have  been  written  altogether  in  vain. 

F.  McK  B. 


vu 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"He  Is  a  IVL-vn  After  My  Own  Heart!"  ex- 
claimed IMadame  CouiLLARD  (See  page  166) 

Frontispiece 

PAGE 

The  Song  Was  Sad — But  We  Laughed  and 
Laughed  Until  W^e  Wept  Again 98 

Rene  Had  Risen  in  the  Excitement  of  His  De- 
scription     162 

"How  Can  You?"  She  Cried  Involuntarily, 
"How  Can  a  Little  Lad  Like  You  Bear  to 
Kill  Men  with  a  Bayonet?  " 180 

German  Wounded 190 


IX 


THE  FIRST  CANADIANS  IN  FRANCE 


THE 

FIRST  CANADIANS  IN 
FRANCE 


CHAPTER  I 

We  were  a  heterogeneous  lot — no  one  could 
deny  that — all  the  way  down  from  big  Bill 
Barker,  the  heavyweight  hostler,  to  little  Hux- 
ford,  the  featherweight  hustler. 

Xo  commanding  officer,  while  sober,  would 
have  chosen  us  en  masse.  But  we  weren't 
chosen — we  just  arrived,  piece  by  piece;  and 
the  Hammer  of  Time,  with  many  a  nasty 
knock,  has  welded  us. 

One  by  one,  from  the  farthest  corners  of  the 
Dominion,  the  magic  magnet  of  the  war  drew 
us  to  the  plains  of  Valcartier,  and  one  by  one 
it  dropped  us  side  by  side.  Why  some  came 
or  why  they  are  still  here  God  knows!  Man 
may  merely  conjecture. 

Divers  forces  helj^ed  to  speed  us  from  our 
homes:  love  of  adventure,  loss  of  a  sweetheart, 
family  quarrels,  the  wander-spirit,  and,  among 
[13] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 


many  other  sentiments — patriotism.  But  only 
one  force  held  us  together:  our  Colonel!  With- 
out him,  as  an  entity,  we  ceased  to  exist.  His 
broad-minded  generosity  and  liberal  forbear- 
ance closed  many  an  angry  breach.  His  love 
of  us  finds  its  analogy  only  in  the  love  of  a 
father  for  his  prodigal  son. 

Long  after  we  reached  France,  when  the 
dull  monotony  of  daily  routine  had  somewhat 
sobered  us,  one  early  morning  the  sweet  but 
disturbing  note  of  the  bugle  sounding  the 
reveille  brought  me  back  from  dreams  of  home. 
I  lay  drowsily  listening  to  its  insistent  voice. 
The  door  of  my  room  opened  softly,  and  the 
orderly  stole  in. 

He  was  a  red-cheeked,  full-lipped  country 
lad,  scarce  seventeen  years  of  age.  He  knelt 
down  before  the  fireplace  and  meditatively 
raked  the  ashes  from  its  recess.  He  was  a  slow 
lad;  slow  in  speech,  slower  in  action,  and  his 
big  dreamy  blue  eyes  belied  his  military  bear- 
ing. 

I  turned  over  in  bed  to  get  a  better  view  of 
him. 

"What  freak  of  fancy  brought  you  so  far 
from  home,  Wilson?"  I  queried. 
[14] 


THE    FIKST    CAN.VDIANS    IX    FRANCE 

"Dunno,  zur,"  he  drawled.  "Not  much  fun 
husthn'  coals  in  the  mornin'  nur  pullin'  teeth 
in  the  afternoon."  For  Wilson,  among  his 
multitudinous  duties,  was  dental  orderly  too. 

"There's  such  an  air  of  farm  and  field  about 
you,  Wilson,  that  sometimes,  at  short  range, 
I  imagine  I  get  a  whifF  of  new-mown  hay." 

He  sat  up  on  his  haunches,  balancing  the 
shovel  upon  his  outstretched  hand.  The  pool 
of  memory  was  stirred.  A  hazy  thought  was 
struggling  to  the  surface.  He  looked  dream- 
ily toward  me  for  a  moment  before  he  replied. 

"I  wuz  born  an'  raised  in  the  country,  zur," 
he  said.  "When  the  war  broke  out  I  wuz  pick- 
in'  apples  on  dad's  farm.  I  didn't  like  my  job. 
Gee!    I  wish't  I'd  stayed  an'  picked  'em  now." 

How  we  ever  taught  Wilson  to  say  "Sir," 
or  even  his  corruption  of  the  word,  must  re- 
main forever  shrouded  in  mystery;  but  it  was 
accomplished  at  last,  just  like  many  other  great 
works  of  art. 

The  Canadian  spirit  of  democracy  resents 
any  semblance  of  a  confession  of  inferiority, 
and  the  sergeant-major's  troubles  were  like 
unto  those  of  Job.  Military  discipline  com- 
menced in  earnest  when  the  ship  left  the  bar- 
[15} 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

bour  at  Quebec,  and  has  hung  over  us  like  a 
brooding  robin  ever  since. 

It  was  an  eventful  morning  to  us  (and  to 
England)  when  our  fleet  of  thirty  ocean  liners, 
with  its  freight  of  thirty-three  thousand  sol- 
diers, steamed  slowly  into  the  harbour  at  Ply- 
mouth and  dropped  anchor. 

For  two  glorious  October  weeks  we  had 
bedecked  the  Atlantic.  His  Majesty's  fleet 
night  and  day  had  guarded  us  with  an  ever- 
increasing  care.  I  can  still  look  over  the  star- 
board rail  and  see  the  black  smoke  of  the 
Gloria  prowling  along  in  the  south,  and,  afar 
oiF  in  the  north,  the  Queen  Mary  watching 
our  hazardous  course.  The  jaunty  little 
Charyhdis  minced  perkily  ahead. 

There  were  other  battleships,  too,  which 
picked  us  up  from  time  to  time;  and  the 
Monmouth,  on  the  last  voyage  she  was  des- 
tined to  make,  steamed  through  our  lines 
one  day.  The  brave  fellows,  who  were  so 
soon  to  meet  a  watery  grave,  lined  up  upon 
her  deck,  giving  us  three  resounding  cheers 
as  she  passed  by,  and  we  echoed  them  with 
a  will. 

Captain  Reggy,  our  dapper  mess  secretary, 
[16] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

was  pacing  the  hurricane  deck  one  day.  From 
time  to  time  his  gaze  turned  wistfully  across 
the  waves  to  the  other  two  lines  of  ships 
steaming  peacefully  along  side  by  side. 
Something  weighty  was  on  his  mind.  Oc- 
casionally he  glanced  up  to  the  military  sig- 
nalling officer  on  the  bridge,  and  with  in- 
explicable interest  watched  his  movements 
with  the  flags. 

''I  say,"  Reggj^  called  up  to  him,  "can 
you  get  a  message  across  to  the  Franconia?" 

"She's  third  ship  in  the  third  line — a  little 
difficult,  I  should  say,"  the  signaller  replied. 

"But  it  can  be  done,  can't  it?"  Reggy 
coaxed. 

"Yes,   if  it's  very  important." 

"It's  most  important.  I  want  to  send  a 
message   to   one   of   the   nurses." 

The  signalling  lieutenant  leaned  both  el- 
bows upon  the  rail  and  looked  down  in  grin- 
ning amazement  upon  his  intrepid  interlocu- 
tor. 

"What  the  d 1!     I  say,  you're  the  sort 

of  man  we  need  at  the  front — one  with  plenty 
of  nerve!" 

[17] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

"Be  a  sport  and  send  it  over!"  Reggy 
coaxed. 

"All  right— I'll  take  a  chance." 

"Ask  for  Nursing  Sister  Marlow.  Give 
her  Captain  Reggy's  compliments  and  best 
wishes,  and  will  she  join  him  on  board  for 
dinner  this  evening,  seven  o'clock!" 

There  was  a  flutter  of  flags  for  several 
seconds,  while  the  ridiculous  message  passed 
across  from  ship  to  ship.  Reggy  waited  anx- 
iously for  a  reply. 

In  less  than  ten  minutes  from  across  the 
deep  came  this  very  lucid  answer:  "Nursing 
Sister  Marlow's  compliments  to  Captain 
Reggy.  Regrets  must  decline  kind  invita- 
tion to  dinner.  Mai  de  mer  has  rendered 
her  hors  de  combat.     Many  thanks." 

On  the  last  day  of  our  journey  the  speedy 
torpedo  boat  destroyers  rushed  out  to  meet 
us  and  whirled  round  and  round  us  hour 
by  hour  as  we  entered  the  English  Channel. 
Soon  the  welcome  shores  of  England  loomed 
through  the  haze,  and  the  sight  sent  a  thrill 
through  all  our  hearts. 

We  had  scarce  dropped  anchor  when,  from 
the  training  ship  close  by,  a  yawl  pulled 
[18] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FKANCE 

quickly  toward  us,  "manned"  by  a  dozen  or 
more  lads  from  a  training  ship.  They  rowed 
with  the  quick  neat  stroke  of  trained  athletes, 
and  as  the  boat  came  alongside  ours  they 
shipped  their  oars  and  raised  their  boyish  voices 
in  a  welcomnig  cheer.  We  leaned  over  the  side 
of  our  ship  and  returned  their  greeting  with 
a  stentorian  heartiness  that  startled  the  sleep- 
ing  town. 

Showers  of  small  coin  and  cigarettes  were 
dropped  into  their  boat,  and  the  way  in 
which  they  fought  for  position,  scrambling 
over  or  under  one  another,  upsetting  this 
one  or  knocking  down  that,  showed  that  these 
lads  were  quite  capable  of  upholding  all  the 
old  fighting  traditions  of  the  British  Navy. 

A  tug-boat  soon  steamed  alongside,  too, 
and  down  the  accommodation-ladder  scram- 
bled those  of  us  who  were  lucky  enough  to 
have   permission   to   go   ashore. 

"Come  along,  Reggy,"  I  shouted.  But 
Reggy  shook  his  head  sorrowfully,  and  his 
handsome  face  was  clouded. 

"Just  my  rotten  luck  to  be  orderly  officer 
on    a   day   like   this!"   he    replied.      "To-day 
I    guard    the    ship,    but    to-morrow — oh,    to- 
[19] 


THE    riEST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

morrow!"  Reggy  held  out  both  hands  in 
mock  appeal  to  the  shore:  "Me  for  the  red 
paint   and   city   lights!" 

Progress  up  the  streets  of  Devonport  was 
slow.  Thousands  of  troops  already  landed 
were  marching  to  the  time  of  "The  Maple 
Leaf  Forever,"  and  every  foot  of  pave- 
ment or  sidewalk  was  packed  with  strug- 
gling but  enthusiastic  humanity  shouting  it- 
self hoarse  in  delirious   welcome. 

We  were  on  the  upper  deck  of  a  tram- 
car,  leaning  over  the  throng,  and  eagerly 
looking  for  the  faces  of  friends  in  the  ranks 
of  a  passing  battalion.  They  swung  along 
to  the  music  of  their  band — a  clean-cut,  well- 
set-up,  manly  lot,  who  marched  with  the  firm 
independent  step  of  the  free  born.  Sud- 
denly our  colonel  discovered  a  familiar  face 
among  the  khaki-clad  below.  There  is  no  mili- 
tary precedent  for  what  he  did;  years  of 
training  fell  away  on  the  instant.  He  leaned 
from  the  car  and  shouted: 

"Hello,  'Foghorn'!    What  cheer?" 

"Foghorn"  looked  up.  His  right  arm  was 
somewhat  hampered,  from  a  military  point 
of  view,  by  reason  of  being  about  the  waist 
[20] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

of  a  pretty  girl,  who  accommodatingly 
marched  along  Mith  the  battalion  in  gen- 
eral, and   "Foghorn"   in   particular. 

"Hello,  Jack,"  he  bellowed  in  a  voice  which 
easily  accounted  for  his  nickname.  "Lots  of 
cheer.  Can't  salute.  One  arm  busy!  Other 
is  glass  arm  from  saluting  the  brass  hats. 
See  you  later.     Good  luck!" 

And  thus  our  cosmopolitan  and  ultra- 
democratic  battalion  passed  on. 

Some  one  has  said  that  the  Englishman  is 
temperamentally  cold.  It  can't  be  proved  by 
Devonport  or  Plymouth.  His  temperature 
in  both  towns  registered  ninety-eight  degrees 
in  the  shadiest  and  most  secluded  spots.  And 
the  women  and  children!  Banish  all  thought 
of  British  frigidity!  The  Canadians  in  Eng- 
land never  discovered  it. 

The  passion  of  the  Devonport  children 
for  souvenirs  in  the  shape  of  pennies  and 
buttons  became  so  violent  in  a  few  hours 
that  our  small  coin  was  likely  to  become 
extinct  and  our  l)uttons  merely  things  that 
used  to  be.  Every  time  a  soldier  appeared 
upon  the  street  he  was  instantly  surrounded 
[21] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

by  a  bevy  of  insistent  and  persistent  mendi- 
cants. 

Once  we  sought  refuge  in  a  cooling  spot 
where  glasses  tinkle  and  the  beer  foams 
high — and  children  might  not  follow  there. 
The  pretty  barmaid  smiled.  The  second  in 
command  twirled  his  long  moustache  and 
fixed  the  maiden  with  his  martial  eye. 

"What  will  you  have,  sir?"  she  inquired 
sweetly. 

The  senior  major  was  always  gallant  to 
a  pretty  girl.  He  drew  himself  up  to  his 
full  six  feet,  two,  and  saluted.  A  mellow  line 
from  "Omar  Khayyam"  dropped  from  his 
thirsty  lips: 

"A  jug  of  wine,  a  loaf  of  bread,  and  thou 
Beside  me  singing  in  the  wilderness  J" 

How  much  further  he  might  have  gone 
one  cannot  say.  The  girl  held  up  a  reprov- 
ing finger  and  exclaimed: 

"Ah,  I  see  it  is  black  coffee  the  gentle- 
man requires." 

But  the  major's  poetic  spirit  was  aroused. 
"Avaunt  coffee,"  he  cried. 
[22] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

"Shall  I  dU tress  my  ruddy  soul 
With  du^hy  dregs  from  coffee  urn? 
Far  siceeter,  stveet,  to  que  tick  its  fire 
With  xLine  for  which  the  'innards'  yearn. 

A  glass  of  beer,  please." 

The  adjutant  leaned  over  toward  me  and 
hazarded,  in  a  hoarse  whisper: 

"I    presume   they   have   no    ice." 

The  barmaid's  red  cheeks  dimpled  and 
two  straight  rows  of  pearly  teeth  shone  upon 
him,   as  she   answered  for  me: 

"Your  presumption  is  ill-founded,  young 
man.  We  have  plenty  of  ice  with  which  to 
temper  the  hot  young  blood  of  the  Ca- 
nadians." 

The  adjutant  looked  helplessly  up,  bereft 
of  rej^artee;   then  apostrophised  the   ceiling: 

"And  these  are  the  stupid  Englishwomen 
we  have  been  led  to  expect!" 

Our    education    was    going    on    apace. 

A  few  moments  later  we  emerged  and  dis- 
covered ourselves  in  a  veritable  whirlpool 
of  young  monetary  gluttons. 

"Penny,  sir!  penny!  penny!"  they  shouted 
in  staccato  chorus.  Our  supply  of  pennies 
[23] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

had  long  since  been  depleted.    An  idea  struck 
me. 

"See  here,"  I  said  in  serious  tone.  "We're 
only  a  lot  of  poor  soldiers  going  to  the  war. 
We  can't  always  be  giving  away  pennies. 
We   need   pennies   worse   than   you   do." 

A  sudden  hush  fell  upon  the  little  circle. 
Some  looked  abashed,  others  curiously  un- 
certain, a  few  sympathetic.  The  silence  lasted 
a  full  minute.  We  all  stood  still  looking  at 
one  another. 

"Can  any  little  boy  or  girl  in  this  crowd 
give  a  poor  soldier  a  penny  to  help  him 
along  to  the  war?"  I  asked  quietly. 

Again  silence.  Finally  a  little  ragged  tot 
of  about  eight  years  of  age,  carrying  a  baby 
in  her  arms,  turned  to  her  companions  and 
said:  "Here,  hold  the  baby  for  me  and  I'll 
give  the  poor  fellow  a  penny."  She  dived 
deep  in  the  pocket  of  her  frock,  brought  out 
a  penny,  ha'penny  (her  total  wealth)  and 
held  it  out  to  me. 

Lieutenant  INIoe  stepped  forward.  "Look 
here,  major,"  he  said  sternly,  "do  you  mean 
to  say  you'll  take  that  money  from  a  young- 
ster?" 

[24] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

"I  do,"  I  replied,  without  a  smile. 

"I  won't  permit  it,"  he  cried. 

Here  was  an  embarrassing  situation.  I 
couldn't  explain  to  him  without  confessing 
to  the  child  as  well.  I  wished  to  gauge  how 
much  patriotism  beat  in  those  little  hearts, 
what  sacrifice  they  were  prepared  to  make 
for  their  country;  and  here  was  one  measur- 
ing up  to  the  highest  ideals,  I  daren't  either 
withdraw  or  explain. 

"I  must  have  the  pennies,  IMoe,  and  I  am 
going  to  take  them,"  I  replied  firmly.  "Stand 
aside,  please!" 

Military  discipline  came  to  the  rescue.  Moe 
saluted  stiffly  and  stepped  back.  The  little 
girl  gravely  handed  over  the  pennies  and 
took  back  her  baby. 

"Any  others?"  I  asked. 

Some  of  the  children  declared  they  had 
none;  a  few  looked  sheepish  and  hung  their 
heads.  I  slipped  a  sixpence  into  the  hand 
of  the  little  lady. 

"Well,  I'll  be  damned!"  exclaimed  Moe. 
"Here's  another  penny  for  you,"  and  he 
handed  the  bewildered  child  half  a  crown. 

A  shout  of  surprise  and  dismay  went  up 
[25] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

from  the  other  children,  who  realised  too 
late  that  they  had  failed  in  the  test. 

"The  drinks  are  certainly  on  me!"  Moe 
cried.     "About  turn!" 

Sometimes  when  I  feel  that  the  world  is 
sordid  and  mean  I  go  to  my  trunk  and  look 
at  those  two  coins,  and  I  know  that  some- 
where, in  a  frail  little  body,  beats  a  generous 
heart,  and  I  feel  that  after  all  part  of  the 
world  is  worth  while. 


[26] 


CHAPTER  II 

Reggy  was  on  shore  at  last.  He  said  he 
felt  much  better  walking  alone  up  street 
— more  as  if  he  owned  the  town! 

It's  a  strange  sensation  stepping  on  solid 
ground  after  weeks  on  shipboard.  There  is 
a  lack  of  harmony  between  oneself  and  the 
ground.  You  rock — the  ground  stands  still; 
you  stand  still — the  ground  rocks,  like  an 
angry  sergeant. 

The  senior  major  wag  on  the  corner,  hold- 
ing an  animated  conversation  with  a  beauti- 
fully gowned  young  lady,  to  whom  he  bid 
a  hasty  adieu  as  Reggy  hove  in  sight. 

"Corking  girl,  that,"  said  Reggy  mischie- 
vously. 

"Where?"  demanded  the  major,  looking 
about. 

"The  young  lady  to  whom  you  just  avoided 
introducing  me." 

"It's  rather  a  remarkable  coincidence,"  said 
[27] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

the  major,  avoiding  controversy,  "that  I 
should  run  across  a  relation  in  this  far-away 
place!" 

"Very!"  Reggy  replied  drily.  "Family's 
fond  of  travel,  I  take  it." 

A  tall,  well-knit  young  subaltern  elbowed 
his  way  through  the  crowd  and  joined  the 
pair.     Reggy  greeted  him: 

"Better  come  and  have  dinner  with  your 
brother  and  me,  Tom.  I  feel  he  needs  good 
company  and  a  chaperon  or  two!" 

The  trio  entered  the  rotunda  of  the  Royal. 

A  distinguished  looking  gentleman  and  a 
prepossessing  lady  of  middle  age  stood  chatting 
together.  Their  voices  were  agitated,  and 
the  three  officers  could  not  avoid  overhearing 
snatches  of  the  conversation. 

"He  is  on  the  Cassandra,  and  in  this  med- 
ley of  ships  no  one  seems  to  know  where  his 
is  anchored,"  the  man  was  saying. 

"Dear  me,"  sighed  the  lady.  "To  think 
that  our  boy  should  be  so  near  and  that 
we  should  not  be  able  to  see  him!  It's  dread- 
ful!" 

"But  we  must  find  him,"  the  man  declared 
[28] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

reassuringly.  "Surely  there  is  some  way 
of  reaching  the  ship?" 

"They  tell  me  no  one  is  allowed  on  board; 
and  when  the  battalion  disembarks  they  will 
be  marched  away.  What  shall  we  do?"  she 
cried  in  great  distress. 

Reggy's  impulsive  heart  was  touched.  He 
approached  them  and  respectfully  saluted. 

"A  thousand  pardons,  sir,"  he  said,  "for 
breaking  in  upon  a  private  conversation,  but 
I  couldn't  help  overhearing  your  words.  Can 
I  be  of  any  assistance  to  you?" 

"It  is  very  kind  of  you,  indeed,"  the  man 
answered  in  a  rich  voice  of  unusual  gentility. 
"Perhaps  you  can  help  us.  My  son  is  aboard 
the  Cassandra.  We  haven't  seen  him  since 
he  went  to  Canada  four  years  ago.  He  is 
only  a  Tommy,  so  cannot  come  ashore,  and 
it  seems  impossible  to  get  into  communica- 
tion with  him." 

"What  luck!"  Reggy  exclaimed.  "His  ship 
and  ours  are  anchored  side  by  side;  so  close, 
in  fact,  that  we  have  a  connecting  gang- 
way." 

"Oh,  do  you  think  we  could  get  out  to 
[29] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

him?"    the    mother    asked    anxiously.      "We 
have  no  permit  to  visit  the  ships." 

"If  you  can  get  authority  to  enter  the 
dockyards,  I'll  see  what  I  can  do  to  get 
you  aboard  to-morrow  noon,"  Reggy  an- 
swered.    "I'll  meet  you  at  the  quay." 

"God  bless  you!"  exclaimed  the  lady,  with 
tears  in  her  eyes. 

The  following  day,  true  to  his  word,  Reggy, 
with  a  written  permit  in  his  pocket,  ushered 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hargreaves  aboard  the  ship. 

"You  will  stay  and  lunch  with  me,"  said 
Reggy.  "I'll  get  your  boy  across,  and  we'll 
all  lunch  together." 

"But  I  was  under  the  impression  that 
Tommies  were  not  allowed  to  dine  with  of- 
ficers,"   protested    Mr.    Hargreaves. 

"The  deuce!  I'd  forgotten  all  about  that," 
Reggy  exclaimed,  as  he  scratched  his  head 
perplexedly.  "Ah,  I  have  it,"  he  ejaculated 
a  moment  later;  "he  shall  be  an  officer  during 
the  meal.  I'll  lend  him  a  tunic.  No  one  else 
on  board  will  know." 

"But  I  don't  wish  you  to  get  yourself  into 
trouble,"   Mr.    Hargreaves   remonstrated. 

Reggy  laughed. 

[30] 


THE    FIKST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

"I  love  such  trouble,"  he  cried,  "and  the 
risk  fascinates  me.  I'll  be  back  in  a  mo- 
ment." And  he  dashed  off  in  his  impetuous 
waj\ 

In  a  short  time  he  returned,  bringing  with 
him  a  handsome  but  much  embarrassed  youth, 
wearing  a  captain's  uniform.  But  the  sight 
which  met  his  eyes  banished  all  thought  of 
clothes. 

"Mother!  Father!"  he  cried;  and  in  a 
moment  was  clasped  in  his  mother's  arms, 
while  tears  of  joy  she  didn't  strive  to  hide 
rolled  down  her  cheeks.  The  old  gentleman 
turned  his  head  aside  to  hide  his  own  emo- 
tion, and  Reggy,  feeling  de  trop,  slipped 
quietly  away. 

A  few  days  later  our  ship  was  dragged 
slowly  into  dock  by  two  small  but  power- 
ful tug-boats.  The  boys  who  had  been  caged 
on  board  for  a  full  week  in  sight  of  but  un- 
able to  reach  the  land  sliouted  and  danced 
for  joy.  The  noise  of  the  donkey  engine 
pulling  our  equipment  out  of  the  hold  was 
to  us  the  sweetest  sound  on  land  or  sea. 

We  were  almost  the  last  ship  to  dock,  and 
a  thr)nsand  bovs  were  impatiently  awaiting 
[31] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

their  turn  to  step  on  English  soil.  Machine 
guns,  boxes  of  rifles  and  ammunition,  great 
cases  of  food  and  wagons  came  hurtling 
through  the  hatchway,  vomited  from  the 
depths  below.  With  great  speed  and  regu- 
larity they  were  deposited  on  the  quay,  while 
heavy  motor  lorries,  piled  high  with  freight, 
creaked  from  dock  to  train. 

From  across  the  quay,  and  in  awesome 
proximity,  the  great  guns  of  the  battle  cruis- 
ers Tiger  and  Benhow  yawned  at  us.  As 
far  as  one  might  look  heavily  armoured  men- 
of-war,  ready  to  sail  or  in  process  of  con- 
struction, met  the  eye,  and  the  deafening 
crash  of  the  trip-hammer  stormed  the  ear. 
Britain  may  well  be  proud  of  her  navy.  Its 
size  and  might  are  far  beyond  our  ken. 
Patiently,  in  peaceful  harbour,  or  on  sea,  she 
lies  in  wait  and  longs  for  Germany's  inevi- 
table hour. 

The  hospitality  of  the  citizens  of  Devon- 
port  and  Plymouth  will  long  remain  a  pleas- 
ant recollection.  First  impressions  linger  and 
our  first  impressions  there  still  stir  up  de- 
lightful memories. 

[32] 


THE    FIRST    CAN.\DIAXS    IN    FKAXCE 

"Now,  then,  look  sliarp  there!  Stow  them 
adoos  an'  get  aboard!" 

It  was  the  raucous  voice  of  Sergeant  Honk 
whicli  thus  assailed  his  unwilling  flock.  The 
boys  were  bidding  a  lengthy  farewell  to  the 
local  beauties,  who  had  patriotically  followed 
them  to  the  train. 

The  sergeant  was  hot  and  dusty,  and 
beaded  drops  of  sweat  dripped  from  his  un- 
washed chin.  His  hat  was  cocked  over  one 
eye,  in  very  umnilitary  style.  The  Tom- 
mies, under  the  stimulating  influence  of  two 
or  more  draughts  of  "bitter"  purchased  at 
a  nearby  bar,  were  inclined  to  be  jocose. 

"  'Ave  another  drink,  'Onk!"  cried  one, 
thrusting  a  grimy  head  from  the  train  win- 
dow and  mimicking  Honk's  cockney  accent. 
This  subtle  allusion  to  previous  libations 
aroused  the  sergeant's  ire. 

"Oo  said  that?"  he  shouted  wrathfully,  as 
he  turned  quickly  about.  "Blimey  if  yer  ain't 
got  no  more  disc'pline  than  a  'erd  uv  Alberta 
steers!  If  I  'ears  any  more  sauce  like  that 
some  one  'ull  be  up  for  'office'  in  th'  morn- 
in'!" 

[33] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

The  culprit  had  withdrawn  his  head  in  time, 
and  peace  prevailed  for  moment. 

"What's  that  baggage  fatigue  doin'?"  he 
cried  a  moment  later.  "D'ye  think  y'er  at 
a  picnic — eatin'  oranges?    Load  them  tents!" 

The  orange-eating  "fatigue,"  looking  very 
hot  and  fatigued  indeed,  fell  reluctantly  to 
work. 

Sergeant  Honk  was  not  beautiful  to  look 
upon — his  best  friends  conceded  this.  His 
nose  was  bent  and  red.  He  had  one  fixed 
and  one  revolving  eye,  and  when  the  former 
had  transfixed  you,  the  latter  wandered  aim- 
lessly about,  seeking  I  know  not  what.  He 
was  so  knock-kneed  that  his  feet  could  never 
meet.  I  think  it  was  the  sergeant-major  in 
Punch  who  complained  that  "it  was  impos- 
sible to  make  him  look  'smart,'  for  when  his 
knees  stood  at  attention  his  feet  would  stand 
at  ease." 

To  see  Honk  salute  with  one  stiff  hand 
pointing  heavenward  and  his  unruly  feet  ten 
inches  apart  has  been  known  to  bring  a  wan 
sweet  smile  to  the  face  of  blase  generals;  but 
subalterns,  more  prone  to  mirth,  have  some- 
times laughed  outright. 
[34] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

Some  one  had  thrown  a  banana  peel  upon 
the  station  platform.  Honk  stepped  back- 
ward upon  its  slippery  face.  He  didn't  fall, 
but  his  queer  legs  opened  and  shut  with  a 
scissor-like  snap  that  wrenched  his  dignity 
in  twain. 

"Fruit's  the  curse  of  the  army,"  he  mut- 
tered. 

Somehow  we  got  aboard  at  last — officers, 
non-commissioned  officers  and  men."  The 
crowd  cheered  a  lusty  farewell,  and  amidst 
much  waving  of  pocket  handkerchiefs  and 
hats,  Plymouth  faded  awaj^  and  the  second 
stage  of  our  journey  began. 

It  was  midnight  when  we  pulled  into  Lav- 
ington  station.  There  is  no  village  there — 
merely  a  tavern  of  doubtful  mien.  Rain  was 
falling  in  a  steady  drizzle  as  we  emerged 
upon  the  platform  and  stood  shivering  in 
the  bleak  east  wind.  The  transport  officer, 
who  had  been  awaiting  our  arrival,  ap- 
proached the  colonel  and  saluted. 

"Rather  a  nasty  night,  sir,"  he  observed 
courteously. 

"Bad  night  for  a  march,"  the  colonel  re- 
[35] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

plied.  "My  men  are  tired,  too.  Hope  we 
haven't  got  far  to  go?" 

"Not  very,  sir;  a  matter  of  eight  or  nine 
miles  only." 

The  colonel  glanced  at  him  sharply,  think- 
ing the  information  was  given  in  satirical 
vein;  but  the  Englishman's  face  was  inscru- 
table. 

"Nine  miles!"  he  exclaimed.  "That  may 
be  an  easy  march  for  seasoned  troops,  but 
my  men  have  been  three  weeks  on  ship- 
board." 

"Sorry,  sir,  but  that's  the  shortest  route." 

"Thanks;  we'll  camp  right  here."  The 
colonel  was  emphatic. 

"In  the  rain?"  the  Englishman  inquired 
in  some  surprise. 

"Yes.     What  of  it?" 

"Nothing,  sir;  but  it  seems  unusual,  that's 
all." 

"We're  unusual  people,"  the  colonel  an- 
swered dryly.  "Quartermaster,  get  out  the 
rubber  sheets  and  blankets.  The  station  plat- 
form will  be  our  bed." 

The  transport  officer  saluted  and*  retired. 

The  adjutant  was  weary  and  sleepy.  He 
[36]' 


THE    FIKST    CANxUHAXS    IX    TKANCE 

had  vainly  tried  a  stimulating  Scotch  or  two 
to  rouse  his  lagging  spirit. 

"P^'all  in,  men,"  he  shouted.  "  'Shun!  Riglit 
dress.  Quartermaster,  issue  the  blankets, 
2)lease." 

The  quartermaster  was  disposed  to  argue 
the  point.  The  blankets  w'ould  all  be  wet 
and  muddy,  and  damaged  with  coal  cinders; 
but  he  was  finally  overruled. 

The  adjutant  turned  to  look  at  the  men. 
Their  line  had  wabbled  and  showed  strange 
gyrations. 

"JVill  you  men  stand  in  line?"  he  cried. 
"How  do  any  of  you  ever  expect  to  succeed 
in  life  if  you  can't  learn  to  stand  in  a  straight 
linef  With  which  unanswerable  argument 
and  much  pleased  with  his  midnight  philos- 
ophy, he  relapsed  into  his  customary  genial 
smile. 

At  last  the  blankets  were  distributed,  and 
in  an  hour  the  station  platform  and  bridge 
over  the  tracks  looked  like  the  deck  of  an 
emigrant  steamer.  Wherever  the  eye  reached, 
the  dimly-lighted  platform  showed  rows  of 
sleeping  men,  rolled  up  and  looking  very  like 
sacks  of  potatoes  Iving  together. 
■[37] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 


Five  of  US  officers  turned  into  the  ex- 
pressman's hut,  and  in  the  dark  fell  into 
whatever  corner  was  available.  Reggy  and 
I  occupied  either  side  of  an  unlighted  stove, 
and  throughout  the  jumpy  watches  of  the 
night  bruised  our  shins  against  its  inhospi- 
table legs. 

Dawn  was  breaking,  and  breaking  darkly, 
too,  as  the  dim  shadow  of  the  expressman 
came  stumbling  across  the  platform  through 
rows  of  growling  men.  At  last  he  reached 
his  office,  and,  all  unconscious  of  our  pres- 
ence, stepped  within.  He  stepped  upon  the 
sleeping  form  of  the  adjutant,  and  the  form 
emitted  a  mighty  roar.  The  expressman  stag- 
gered back  in  amazement,  giving  vent  to  this 
weird  epigram: 

"Every  bloomin'  'ole  a  sleepin'  'ole !" 

"You'll  'ave  to  get  up,"  he  cried  indig- 
nantly when  he  had  recovered  from  his  as- 
tonishment.    "This  ain't  a  bloomin'  boardin'- 

5  I" 

ouse ! 

"Could  you  return  in  half  an  hour?"  Reggy 
queried  in  drowsy  tones,  but  without  opening 

his  eyes. 

[38] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

"Xo.  I  couldn't  return  in  'alf  an  hour,*' 
he  mocked  peevishly. 

"Run  away  like  a  good  fellow,  and  bring 
some  shaving  water — have  it  hot!"  Reggy 
commanded. 

"Oh,  I'll  make  it  'ot  for  you  all  right,  if 
you  don't  let  me  into  my  office,"  he  retorted 
angrily. 

]Mig]it  is  not  always  right,  so  we  reluctantly 
rose.  We  had  had  three  hours  of  fitful  sleep 
— not  too  much  for  our  first  night's  soldiering. 
Hot  cofi'ee,  cheese  and  biscuits  wxre  soon 
served  by  our  cooks,  and  w^e  prepared  for 
our  first  march  on  Englisli  sod. 

No  one  wlio  made  that  march  from  Lav- 
ington  to  West  Down  North  will  ever  for- 
get it.  Napoleon's  march  to  IMoscow  was 
mere  child's  play  compared  with  it.  Reggy 
said  both  his  corns  were  shrieking  for  Blue 
Jays  and  when  Bill  Barker  removed  his  socks 
(skin  and  all)  it  marked  an  epoch  in  his  life, 
for  both  his  feet  were  clean. 

Every  fifteen  minutes  it  rained.     At  first 

we  thought  this  mere  playfulness  on  the  part 

of  the  weather;   but   w^hen   it  kept   right   on 

for  weeks  on  end,  we  knew  it  to  be  distem- 

[39] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

per.  By  day  it  was  a  steady  drizzle,  but  at 
night  the  weather  did  its  proudest  feats. 
Sometimes  it  was  a  cloudburst;  anon  an  ordi- 
nary shower  that  splashed  in  angry  little 
squirts  through  the  canvas,  and  fell  upon 
our  beds. 

And  the  .mud!  We  stood  in  mud.  We 
walked  in  mud.  We  slept  in  mud.  The 
sky  looked  muddy,  too.  Once,  and  only 
once,  the  moon  peeped  out — it  had  splashes 
of  mud  on  its  face! 

Reggy  loved  sleep.  It  was  his  one  pas- 
sion. Not  the  sweet  beauty  sleep  of  youth, 
but  the  deep  snoring  slumber  of  the  full- 
blown man.  But,  oh,  those  cruel  "Orderly 
Officer"  days,  when  one  must  rise  at  dawn! 
Reggy  thought  so,  too. 

Six  a.m.  The  bugle  blew  "Parade."  Reggy 
arose.  I  opened  one  eye  in  time  to  see 
a  bedraggled  figure  in  blue  pyjamas  stagger 
across  the  sloppy  floor.  His  eyes  were  heavy 
with  sleep,  and  his  wetted  forelock  fell  in  a 
Napoleonic  curve.  The  murky  dawn  was 
breaking. 

Outside  the  tent  we  could  hear  the  sergeant- 
[4.0] 


THE    FIKST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

major's   rubber   boots    flop,   flop,    across    the 
muddy  road. 

"Fall  in,  men!  Fall  in!"  His  tones,  di- 
luted with  the  rain,  came  filtering  through 
the   tent.      It   was   inspection   hour. 

Reggy  fumbled  at  the  flap  of  the  tent, 
untied  the  cord,  and  through  the  hole  thus 
made  thrust  his  sleep-laden  head. 

"Parade,  'shun!"  shouted  the  sergeant- 
major  (a  sly  bit  of  satire  on  his  part).  The 
warning  wasn't  needed.  The  sight  of  Reg- 
gy's  dishevelled  countenance  was  enough;  Bill 
Barker  himself  "shunned."  Somewhere  from 
the  depths  of  Reggy's  head  a  sleepy  muf- 
fled   voice    emitted    this    succinct    command: 

"Serg'nt-major;  dish-mish  th'  parade." 

"Right  turn!  Dis-miss!"  With  a  shout 
of  joy  the  boys  scampered  off  to  their  tents. 

A  moment  later  Reggy  tumbled  into  bed 
again,  and  soon  was  fast  asleep.  And  within 
two  hours,  at  breakfast,  he  was  saying,  with 
virtuous  resignation:  "How  I  envied  you 
lucky  devils  sleeping-in  this  morning!  I  was 
up  at  six  o'clock  inspecting  the  parade."  And 
the  halo  of  near-truth  hovered  gently  about 
his  head. 

[4,1] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

Thus  passed  three  weeks  of  rain  and  mud. 
In  spite  of  ourselves  we  had  begun  to  look 
like  soldiers.  How  we  ever  developed  into 
the  finest  hospital  unit  in  the  forces  none 
of  us  to  this  day  knows — and  none  but  our- 
selves suspects  it  yet.  We  had,  and  hare  still, 
one  outstanding  feature — a  sort  of  native 
modesty.  Whatever  in  this  chronicle  savours 
of  egotism  is  merely  the  love  of  truth  which 
cannot  be  suppressed. 

And  then,  one  eventful  day,  the  surgeon- 
general  came  to  inspect  us.  He  seemed 
pleased  with  us.  Presently  he  passed  into 
the  colonel's  tent,  and  they  had  a  long  and 
secret  conference  together.  Finally  the  pair 
emerged  again. 

"What  about  your  horses?"  the  general 
queried. 

The  horses  had  been  our  greatest  worry. 
They  came  on  a  different  boat,  and  the  two 
best  were  missing  or  stolen.  Once  Sergeant 
Honk  discovered  them  in  the  lines  of  an- 
other unit,  but  was  indiscreet  enough  to  pro- 
claim his  belief  to  the  sergeant-major  of  that 
unit.  When  we  hurried  down  to  get  them 
they  were  gone.  No  one  there  had  ever 
[42] 


THE    FIPxST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

heard  of  a  horse  of  the  colour  or  design  which 
we  descrihed.  We  were  discouraged,  and 
in  our  despair  turned  to  the  senior  major, 
who  was  a  great  liorseman  and  knew  the 
tricks   of   the   soldier   horse-thief. 

"Don't  get  excited,"  he  said  reassuringly. 
"They've  only  hidden  away  the  horses  in  a 
tent,  after  you  chumps  recognised  them.  To- 
morrow, when  they  are  not  suspicious,  I'll  go 
down  and  get  them." 

And  on  the  morrow  mirabile  dictu  he  se- 
cured them  both. 

So  the  colonel  answered:  "The  horses  are 
here,  and  ready,  sir." 

Ready  for  what?  There  was  a  tenseness 
in  the  air — a  sense  of  mystery  that  could 
not  be  explained.  We  listened  again,  but 
could  only  catch  scraps  of  the  conversation, 
such  as  "Transport  officer,"  "Nine  a.m." 
"Don't  take  the  mess  tent  or  any  tents  but 
hospital  marquees." 

Something  was  brewing  and  brewing  very 
fast.  At  length  the  colonel  saluted,  and  the 
general  left. 

"What  news,  Colonel?"  we  cried  breath- 
[43] 


TPIE   FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

lessly,  as  soon  as  discretion  allowed.    And  he 
let  fall  these  magic  words : 

"We  are  under  orders  to  move.     We  shall 
be  the  first  Canadians  in  France!" 


[44] 


CHAPTER  III 

Tt  was  exactly  10  p.m.  as  Bill  Barker  and 
Huxford,  with  the  heavy  team  and  wagon, 
drove  up  to  the  colonel's  tent. 

"Do  you  think  you  can  find  your  way 
to  Southampton  in  the  dark?"  the  colonel 
asked  Barker  somewhat  anxiously. 

"Yes,  sir.  I've  never  been  lost  in  my  life 
-sober."  The  afterthought  was  delivered 
with  a  reminiscent  grin. 

"Remember,  no  'booze'  until  the  horses  are 
safely  in  the  town;  and  a  glass  of  beer  will 
be  quite  enough  even  then,"  the  colonel  ad- 
monished him. 

"Never  fear,  sir,"  Bill  replied,  as  he  sa- 
luted. With  a  last  long  look  at  the  camp 
he  said:  "Good-night,  sir,"  and  the  horses 
started  down  the  muddy  road. 

Why   we    should    still    have    any    affection 

for  that  camp  in  which  none  of  us  ever  wore 

a  dry  stitch  of  clothes  or  knew  a  moment's 

comfort,  is  merely  another  illustration  of  the 

[45] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

perversity  of  human  nature.  Like  Bill  Sikes' 
dog,  our  love  is  stronger  than  our  common 
sense.  For  a  moment  we  stood  watching  the 
team  pass  down  through  the  lines  toward 
the  unknown  south,  and  then  we  turned  in 
to  sleep. 

At  3  a.m.  our  camp  was  all  astir,  and  the 
dull  yellow  glow  of  candles  and  lanterns  shin- 
ing through  the  tents  dotted  the  plain.  Here 
and  there  brighter  lights  flitted  to  and  fro, 
as  the  men  proceeded  rapidly  with  the  work 
of  packing  up. 

And  what  a  medley  of  goods  there  was! 
Blankets  and  rubber  sheets  were  folded  neatly 
into  their  canvas  covers;  stoves  and  pots 
and  pans  were  crated;  boxes  of  cheese,  jam 
and  bully-beef,  together  with  bags  of  bread 
were  carried  out  of  the  tents  into  the  open. 
At  one  side  stood  large  boxes  of  medicines, 
beds,  mattresses,  portable  folding  tables  and 
chairs,  and  a  hundred  other  varieties  of  hos- 
pital necessaries,  all  packed  and  ready  for 
transport. 

By  9  a.m.  the  motor  lorries  commenced  to 
arrive.  How  the  boys  worked  that  morn- 
ing! The  pile  of  forty  tons  of  goods  which 
[46] 


THE    riKST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

represented  our  home,  and  soon  would  be  the 
home  of  many  others,  sick  and  wounded, 
melted  away  before  their  united  effort. 

AVe  had  come  to  Salisbury  Plain  in  the 
rain;  it  was  but  fitting  that  we  should  leave 
in  a  similar  downpour.     We  did! 

The  soldier  is  a  strange  creature;  a  mi- 
gratory animal  whose  chief  delight  in  life  is 
moving.  Put  him  in  one  place  for  months, 
be  it  ever  so  cheery  and  comfortable — he  frets 
like  a  restless  steed;  but  give  him  the  rein, 
permit  him  to  go,  he  cares  not  whither — he 
is  happy.  It  may  be  from  sunshine  to  shad- 
ow; it  may  be  from  chateau  to  trench;  it  may 
be  from  heaven  to  hell — he  cares  not  if  he  but 
moves,  and,  moving,  he  will  whistle  or  sing  his 
delight. 

The  road  was  lined  with  envious  Tommies 
who  came  to  see  us  start. 

"Yer  colonel  muster  had  some  pull  with 
Kitch'ner  t'  git  ye  away  so  soon,"  said  one 
of  the  envious  to  Tim,  the  colonel's  batman. 

Tim  was  quite  the  most  unique  of  all  our 
motely  tribe.  He  was  born  in  Ireland,  edu- 
cated (or  rather  remained  uneducated)  in 
the  Southern  States,  and  for  the  past  ten 
[47] 


THE   riEST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

years  had  lived  in  Canada.  He  was  a  faith- 
ful servant,  true  to  his  master  and  to  all  his 
friends.  Like  many  another  "original,"  he 
was  permitted  to  take  liberties  which  shocked 
all  sense  of  military  discipline,  as  well  as 
every  other  sense;  but  he  amused  us  and  was 
forgiven.  He  was  a  prize  fighter,  too,  of 
no  mean  ability,  and  carried  the  scars  of 
many  a  hard-fought  battle.  No  other  being 
in  the  world  used  a  dialect  like  Tim's.  It 
was  a  language  all  his  own,  and  negroid  in 
character. 

"Pull  wit'  Kitch'ner!"  he  replied  disdain- 
fully. "Wit  George  hisself,  ye  means.  D'ye 
s'pose  my  kernel  hobnobs  wit'  anyt'ing  lessen 
royalty?  De  king  sent  fer  him,  an'  he  goed 
to   Lunnon   a'   purpose." 

"'Wot  is  yer  Majesty's  command?'  sez  de 
kernel. 

"  'Kernel,'  sez  he,  'when  I  seed  yer  men 

''on   p'rade   las'    Sunday,    I    turned    to    Lord 

Kitch'ner  an'  sez:    "Kitch'ner,  it  ain't  right 

t'  keep  men  as  good  as  dat  in  England;  dere 

place  is  at  de  front!"  '  " 

"You  was  sure  needed  there,"  Tim's  vis-a-vis 
[48] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

interjected  sarcastically;  "good  thick-headed 
fellers  t'  stop  a  bullet."" 

Tini  ignored  the  remark,  and  continued: 

"So  he  sez,  'Kernel,  yer  unit  'ull  be  de  first 
t'  leave  f er  France,  an'  good  luck  t'  ye !'  Wit 
dat  de  kernel  coined  back,  an'  now  we're  goin' 
to  see  de  Pea-jammers." 

"Wot's  them?"  the  other  growlingly  in- 
quired. 

"Don't  ye  know  wot  Pea-jammers  is  yet? 
Ye  muster  bin  eddicated  in  night  school.  Pea- 
janmiers  is  Frenchmen." 

By  what  process  of  exclusion  Tim  had  ar- 
ri\ed  at  this  strange  decision  with  reference 
to  the  French,  none  but  himself  knew;  and 
he  never  by  any  chance  alluded  to  them 
otherwise. 

"All  in,  men!"  shouted  the  sergeant-major, 
and  each  man  scrambled  to  his  allotted  place. 

To  look  at  the  rough  exterior  of  our  men 
one  would  not  suppose  that  music  lurked 
within  their  breasts — nothing  more  unlikely 
seemed  probable;  and  yet,  listen  to  the  vi- 
brant harmony  of  their  chorus  as  they  sit  upon 
their  bags  and  boxes!  It  rolls  in  melodious 
waves  over  the  camp,  and  crowds  of  soldiers 
[49] 


THE    FIRST    CAN^iDIANS    IN    FRANCE 

come  running  toward  the  road  to  listen.  Oh, 
you  may  be  sure  they  had  their  good  points, 
those  lads  of  ours — so  many  good  points, 
too! 

The  lorries  started,  and  the  boys  lifted 
their  voices  to  the  strains  of  "Good-bye, 
Dolly,  I  Must  Leave  You."  The  little  crowd 
which  lined  the  road  on  either  side  raised 
their  caps  and  gave  three  cheers  in  kindly 
token  of  farewell.  As  we  looked  back  upon 
those  stalwart  soldier-boys,  many  a  wistful 
glance  was  cast  toward  us,  and  many  a  long- 
ing eye  followed  the  trail  of  our  caravan. 

Night  had  fallen  before  our  train  puffed 
noisily  into  the  railway  sheds  at  Southamp- 
ton. How  hungry  we  were!  And  the  sight 
of  the  crowded  buffet  and  its  odour  of  steam- 
ing coffee  gave  us  a  thrill  of  expectant  de- 
light. 

There  are  times  in  life  when  it  takes  so 
little  to  please  or  interest  one.  In  the  ornate 
grandeur  of  a  metropolitan  hotel  such  coffee 
and  cake  as  we  received  that  night  would 
have  called  forth  a  clamour  of  protest;  but 
in  the  rough  interior  of  a  dockyard  shed  no 
palatial  surroundings  mar  the  simple  pleas- 
[50] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FKANCE 

iires  of  the  soul.  Wliat  delicious  cheese  our 
quartermaster  produced  out  of  a  mud-covered 
box,  and  how  splendidly  crisp  the  hard-tack, 
as  we  crunched  it  with  hungry  teeth!  Seated 
on  our  bags  and  boxes,  we  feasted  as  none 
but  hungry  soldiers  can,  and  the  murky  cof- 
fee turned  into  nectar  as  it  touched  our  lips. 
Through  the  big  doorway,  too,  the  eye 
could  feast  on  the  towering  side  of  the  ship 
which  was  so  soon  to  take  us  to  our  great 
adventure,  as  she  lay  snuggled  against  the 
quay.  But  as  we  rested  there,  another  train 
pulled  into  the  sheds  and  stopped.  The  doors 
were  opened  from  within,  and  we  were  sur- 
prised to  see  hundreds  of  great  horses  step 
quietly  and  solemnly  out  upon  the  platform. 
There  was  a  marvellous  dignity  about  those 
tall,  magnificent  animals,  with  their  arched 
necks  and  glossy  coats.  They  drew  up  upon 
the  platform  in  long  rows  like  soldiers.  There 
was  no  neighing,  no  kicking  or  baulkiness. 
They  seemed  to  be  impressed  with  the  seri- 
ousness of  the  mission  upon  which  they  were 
sent.  A  little  later,  as  they  passed  up  the 
ship's  gangway,  and  were  marched  aboard, 
[  51  ] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

no  regiment  ever  stepped  upon  the  deck  with 
finer  show  of  discipline. 

Our  saddle  horses  were  already  aboard; 
but  what  had  become  of  Barker  and  the 
team? 

"Where's  Barker?"  the  colonel  suddenly 
demanded.  No  one  present  knew;  but,  as 
if  in  answer  to  his  question,  little  Huxford 
came  running  down  the  platform.  By  the 
look  of  distress  upon  his  face  we  knew  some- 
thing serious  had  happened. 

"What  is  it,  Huxford?"  cried  the  colonel, 
as  Huxford  approached. 

"Barker's  been  arrested,  sir,  by  the  mili- 
tary police,  and  the  team  are  in  the  deten- 
tion camp,  four  miles  from  here,"  he  gasped. 

"Drunk,  I  suppose?"  the  colonel  queried 
angrily. 

"Well,  sir,  he  had  had  a  drink  or  two,  but 
not  till  after  we  got  to  town,"  Huxford  an- 
swered reluctantly. 

"I  might  have  guessed  as  much,"  said  the 
colonel  with  some  bitterness.  "It's  useless  to 
depend  upon  a  man  who  drinks.  Here, 
Fraser,"  he  called  to  Captain  Fraser,  "take 
a  taxi  and  make  the  camp  as  quickly  as  pos- 
[52] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

sible.  The  boat  sails  in  two  hours.  Don't 
fail  to  bring  both  Barker  and  the  horses — 
although.  Lord  knows,  Barker  would  be  no 
great  loss." 

It  was  characteristic  of  the  colonel  that  no 
matter  what  scrapes  we  got  into,  no  matter 
what  trouble  or  humiliation  we  caused  him, 
he  never  forsook  us.  ]More  than  once  in  the 
days  that  were  to  follow  he  saved  some  reck- 
less youth  from  being  taken  out  at  early 
dawn  and  shot;  not  because  he  did  not  feel 
that  the  punishment  was  deserved  but  be- 
cause his  big,  kindly  heart  enwrapped  every 
one  of  his  wayward  soldier-boys  with  a  fath- 
er's love. 

An  English  regiment  was  embarking  upon 
the  same  ship  with  us.  The  donkey  engine  was 
busy  again  hauling  their  accoutrement  and 
ours  aboard.  Great  cases  swung  aloft  in 
monotonous  yet  wonderful  array.  Sometimes 
a  wagon  was  hoisted  into  the  air;  again  a 
motor  truck  was  lifted  with  apparent  ease, 
swayed  to  and  fro  for  a  moment  high  above 
our  heads,  and  then  descended  to  the  depths 
below.  By  midnight  the  ship  was  loaded, 
[53] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

but  Barker  and  the  team  with  Huxford  and 
Captain  Fraser  had  not  returned. 

The  transport  officer  addressed  the  senior 
major. 

"I'm  sorry,"  he  said,  "but  I  can't  hold  the 
ship  more  than  ten  minutes  longer.  If  your 
men  don't  arrive  by  that  time  they'll  have 
to  remain  behind." 

The  colonel  had  gone  to  meet  the  train 
on  which  the  nursing  sisters  were  to  arrive. 
They  were  coming  from  London  to  join  us, 
and  were  to  cross  upon  the  same  boat.  But 
the  colonel  returned  alone. 

He  was  a  tall,  well-built,  handsome  man, 
and  his  winning  smile  was  most  contagious. 
It  took  a  great  deal  to  ruffle  his  genial  good 
nature,  and  his  blue-grey  eyes  were  seldom 
darkened  by  a  frown,  but  this  was  a  night 
of  unusual  worry. 

He  called  out  to  Captain  Burnham: 

"Have  your  luggage  brought  ashore,  Burn- 
ham.  You  and  I  will  remain  behind  to 
chaperon  the  nurses.  They  can't  possibly 
make  the  boat." 

"What's  the  trouble,  sir?"  Burnham  in- 
[54] 


THE    FIKST    CAN.VDIAXS    IN    FRANCE 

quired,  as  he  descended  upon  the  quay.  "Was 
their  train  late?" 

The   colonel   laughed    a   trifle    impatiently. 

"No;  the  train  was  quite  on  time,  but  I 
have  been  having  a  new  experience.  I  under- 
estimated the  baggage  of  thirty-five  women, 
that's  all.  It's  astounding!  I  don't  know 
how  many  trunks  each  nurse  has,  but  the 
tout  ensemble  makes  Barnuni's  circus  train 
look  foolish.  I  ventured  to  remark  that  we 
were  only  going  to  the  war,  not  touring 
Europe,  but  this  precipitated  such  a  shower 
of  reproach  upon  my  innocent  head  that  I 
made  no  further  protest.  I  was  never  able 
to  oust  one  woman  in  an  argument.  Imagine, 
then,  where  I  stood  with  thirty-five!  The 
trunks,  every  one  of  them,  will  cross  with 
us  to-morrow,  and  if  they  wish  to  bring 
Peter  Robinson's  whole  shop,  you  won't  hear 
a  murmur  from  me!" 

At  this  moment  the  sound  of  horses'  hoofs 
coming  at  the  gallop  broke  upon  our  ears; 
and  Captain  Fraser,  himself  driving  the  team, 
with  Barker  and  I luxford  •  clinging  to  the 
seat  for  support,  dashed  upon  the  quay.     As 

[551 


THE   FIEST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

the  horses  pulled  up,  Barker  descended  and 
stood  sheepishly  awaiting  the  inevitable. 

"Barker,  I'm  ashamed  of  you,"  the  colonel 
said  in  a  tone  of  stern  reproach.  "You  have 
been  the  first  to  bring  disgrace  upon  our  unit, 
and  I  hope  you  will  be  the  last.  In  future 
Huxford  will  have  charge  of  the  team.  I 
shall  have  something  further  to  say  when  we 
reach  France.     Get  aboard!" 

Barker  dropped  his  eyes  during  this  speech. 

"I'm  sorry,  sir,  I — I  didn't  mean  to  dis- 
grace you,  sir!"  With  these  words  he  saluted 
and  shuffled  humbly  and  contritely  aboard. 

It  was  many  a  long  day  before  Barker 
tasted  liquor  again.  The  colonel's  words 
burned  with  a  dull  glow  in  his  heart,  and 
kindled  a  spark  of  manhood  there. 

Crossing  the  Channel  in  those  days  was 
not  as  comparatively  safe  as  it  is  to-day. 
Under  the  water,  always  prowling  about, 
lurked  the  German  submarines.  Every  day 
reports  of  their  dastardly  deeds  came  to  hand. 
Being  torpedoed  was  not  the  sort  of  end 
which  one  might  wish.  There  was  no  honour 
or  glory  in  such  a  death,  and  besides,  the 
water  looked  dreary  and  cold.  In  spite  of 
[56] 


THE    FIUST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

oneself  the  thought  of  being  blown  suddenly 
into  the  air  recurred  occasionally  to  mind.  It 
was  not  that  we  had  any  real  fear,  for  any 
form  of  death  was  part  of  the  game  of 
hazard  on  which  we  had  embarked.  But 
we  stood  for  some  time  upon  the  deck  and 
peered  inquisitively  into  the  darkness  as  we 
steamed  rapidly  out  into  the  Channel. 

What  was  the  dull  glow  at  some  distance 
ahead?  Perhaps  a  ship — it  was  impossible 
to  say.  We  looked  astern,  and  there  in  the 
darkness  we  could  just  discern  a  ghostly 
shape  which  followed  in  our  wake,  and,  hour 
by  hour,  ahead  or  beliind,  these  two  mys- 
terious phantoms  followed  or  led  our  every 
turn. 

Dawn  was  breaking;  the  hazy  shapes  be- 
came more  real.  Slowly  the  daylight  pierced 
the  mist,  and  there  revealed  to  our  aston- 
ished gaze,  were  two  sturdy  little  torpedo 
boat  destroyers.  It  was  a  part  of  that  mar- 
vellous British  navy  which  never  sleeps  by 
night  or   day. 

What  a  sense  of  security  those  two  de- 
stroyers gave  us!  The  mist  closed  round 
us  again,  and  liid  them  from  our  view,  but 
[57] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

ever  and  anon  the  roar  of  our  siren  broke 
the  silence  and  presently,  close  by,  a  sharp  an- 
swering blast  told  us  that  our  guardians  were 
near.  By  and  by  the  fog  closed  round  about 
us  so  densely  that  further  progress  was  un- 
safe, and  so  the  engines  were  stopped,  and 
for  another  day  and  night  we  remained  at 
sea. 


[58] 


CHAPTER  IV 

DmiNG  the  day  and  a  half  that  we  stood 
out  in  the  Channel  fog,  wondering  whether 
Me  should  ever  reach  land,  or  whether  a 
stray  German  submarine  would  send  us  to 
a  higher  sphere,  we  had  plenty  of  time  to 
look  about  the  ship.  She  was  an  India  liner 
whic'li  had  been  pressed  into  service  as  a 
troop  sliip;  and  the  Hindu  stewards  looked 
after  our  many  wants  as  only  the  Oriental 
can. 

What  a  far-reaching  cosmopolitanism  ema- 
nates from  that  little  land  of  Britain!  Here 
were  English  officers  giving  orders  to  the 
Hindus  in  their  own  mysterious  tongue;  and 
the  deference  with  which  these  men  obeyed 
helped  us  to  realise  Britain's  greatness.  To 
conquer  a  country,  tame  it,  civilise  it — some- 
times by  force — and  still  retain  the  love  and 
respect  of  its  inhabitants,  is  a  power  given  to 
but  few  peoples;  yet  Britons  possess  it  to  the 
full. 

[59] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

On  Sunday  morning — a  bright  warm  day 
in  early  November — our  ship  steamed  slowly 
into  the  port  of  Le  Havre.  We  lingered  a 
few  minutes  near  a  high  stone  quay.  Close 
beside  us  was  a  Belgian  hospital  ship,  its 
white  and  green  paint  and  big  red  crosses 
contrasting  strangely  with  our  own  dull  grey. 
We  could  see  the  nurses  and  medical  officers 
on  board  ministering  to  their  patients  with  ten- 
der care  and  solicitude. 

We  were  steaming  slowly  through  a  nar- 
row channel  between  block  after  block  of 
wharves,  where  ships  unnumbered  piled  their 
ocean  freight.  Finally  we  emerged  into  a 
great  basin  filled  with  craft,  both  large  and 
small,  some  of  which  were  dismantled.  Across 
the  bay  a  splendid  ocean  liner  reared  her  four 
smokeless  funnels  toward  the  sky;  she  was 
one  of  that  great  fleet  of  passenger  ships,  so 
recently  the  pride  of  France,  now  thrust  aside 
by  the  stern  demands  of  ruthless  war. 

At  length  we  docked,  and  as  we  stood  lean- 
ing over  the  rail,  some  little  children  came 
running  down  the  quay  to  greet  us. 

''Messieurs!  Messieurs!  Bon  jour!"  they 
[60] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

cried;  and  then  for  the  first  time  we  realised 
that  we  were  in  a  foreign  land. 

France,  la  belle  France!  How  often  have 
we  dreamed  of  you  in  better  days!  Bright, 
vivacious  France,  whose  wit  and  laughter 
sparkled  like  champagne,  whose  joy  was  ever 
rampant!  How  soon  your  smiles  and  tears 
were  to  intermingle  with  our  own! 

But  the  soldiers  on  board  had  not  yet 
learned  to  speak  in  French,  and  they  re- 
sponded in  our  own  dull  tongue:  "Good-day, 
little  girls.  Hello,  little  boys,"  and  they 
dropped  silver  coins  and  pennies  on  the  quay. 

The  French  children  had  already  learned 
a  word  or  two  of  English,  and  they  had  also 
discovered  that  the  Tommy  understood  two 
very  useful  French  words.  Not  to  be  out- 
done in  courtesy,  they  flung  them  up  to  us 
in  piping  chorus:  "Good-night,  cigarette, 
souvenir!" 

Plow  many  thousand  times  we  have  since 
heard  this  same  greeting!  It  has  become  the 
children's  formula,  and  as  a  gracious  conces- 
sion to  our  ignorance  of  French  has  met  its 
just  reward — in  pennies. 

Dusk  fell  before  we  had  completed  the  un- 
[61] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

loading  of  our  equipment  and  had  it  all 
stowed  away  in  the  hangar.  Then  we  formed 
up  and,  with  a  French  boy-scout  as  guide, 
started  our  march  toward  camp. 

The  senior  major,  on  his  splendid  black 
horse,  led  the  van;  the  men,  contrary  to  mili- 
tary custom,  carrying  a  Union  Jack,  followed, 
and  Captain  Reggy  and  I,  mounted,  brought 
up  the  rear. 

The  first  half-mile  of  our  march  was  un- 
eventful, as  there  were  few  people  in  the 
streets  of  the  basse  ville;  but  as  we  passed 
farther  up  into  the  city  the  sidewalks  be- 
came crowded  with  spectators.  At  first  the 
French  mistook  us  for  English  soldiers  on 
the  march,  the  sight  of  whom,  while  an  al- 
most hourly  occurrence,  was  still  a  matter  of 
keen  interest.  But  as  the  crowd,  becoming 
larger  and  larger,  and  pushing  one  another 
off  the  sidewalks  into  the  road,  caught  a 
glimpse  of  our  shoulder  badges  marked 
"Canada,"  the  word  was  passed  from  mouth 
to  mouth  with  lightning-like  rapidity,  and 
the  excitement  became  intense. 

They  broke  forth  into  the  wildest  cheer- 
ing and  shouted  again  and  again,  "Les  Ca- 

[62] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

nudiens!  Vive  le  Canada!"  until  the  clam- 
our was  deafening.  ]Men,  women  and  chil- 
dren surrounded  us  in  thousands,  laughing, 
singing  and  talking,  shaking  the  soldiers  by 
the  liand,  embracing  and  even  kissing  them 
in  the  excess  of  their  welcome. 

Tliat  the  boys  weren't  always  kissed  on 
account  of  their  irresistible  beauty  may  be 
gatlicred  from  this  little  conversation  which 
took  place  en  passant: 

"Mon  Dieu!"  exclaimed  one  of  the  girls 
to  her  nearest  neighbour,  "why  did  you  kiss 
that  ugly  face?" 

"Because,"  was  the  reply,  "he  looked  so 
lonely — he  seemed  to  need  it  most." 

They  marched  up  the  street  with  us,  arm 
in  arm,  all  who  could  get  near  enough,  and 
threw  a  tliousand  questions  at  us  in  one  un- 
intelligible clatter  of  French.  It  was  a  wel- 
come to  stir  the  blood  of  the  coldest,  and  from 
that  moment  we  took  France  to  our  hearts, 
as  she  had  taken  us,  and  held  her  fast. 

What  did  the  landing  of  a  mere  handful 
of  Canadians  mean  to  France?  There  weren't 
enough  of  us  to  be  of  much  importance,  com- 
pared with  the  thousands  of  other  British 
[63] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

troops  which  landed  daily.  But  the  French, 
with  their  keen  sense  of  appreciation,  recog- 
nised at  once  that  the  advent  of  this  little 
Canadian  band  had  a  broad  significance;  it 
meant  that  in  her  great  struggle  for  the  cause 
of  liberty  and  humanity  France  was  to  be 
supported  not  only  by  Britain  but  by  the*  far- 
flung  elements  of  the  Empire.  It  meant  en- 
couragement; it  meant  success! 

And  as  they  shouted  "Vive  le  Canada/' 
we  echoed  with  a  will,  ''Vive  la  France." 
We  sang,  too,  "God  Save  the  King,"  and 
''La  Marseillaise."  A  few  who  knew  Eng- 
lish joined  in  the  first,  but  "La  Marseillaise" 
starting  by  courtesy  with  us,  swelled  in  a 
moment  into  a  mighty  anthem  which  swept 
the  city  like  a  storm.  Later,  when  we  fol- 
lowed with  "The  Maple  Leaf,"  a  respectful 
silence  fell  upon  the  throng.  With  quick 
intuition  they  knew  it  was  a  song  of  home, 
with  which  they  sympathised,  but  which  they 
could  not  understand.  And  as  the  melody 
concluded  we  could  hear  them  whispering  one 
to  another:  "Quelle  est  cette  chanson?"  And 
we  answered  in  our  broken  French,  "It  is  a 
song  of  our  native  land,  far,  far  from  here." 
[64] 


THE    ITKST    CANADIANS    IN    FKANCE 

It  was  my  good  fortune  (luring  this  strange 
march  to  ride  upon  the  side  close  to  the 
curb,  while  Reggy,  in  comparative  obscurity, 
rode  opposite.  Frequently,  too,  it  was  my 
privilege  to  return  the  greetings  of  the  dainty 
French  girls  who  lined  the  walk  and  waved 
their  handkerchiefs  high  above  the  heads  of 
the  crowd  in  the  road. 

At  last  Reggy,  trotting  along  in  the  shadow, 
could  contain  himself  no  longer.  He  burst 
out: 

"Hang  it  all,  major!  Just  my  bally 
hick  again;  you're  always  closer  to  the  girls 
than  I." 

"But  not  closer  to  their  hearts,  Reggy 
dear,"  I  interjected  sootliingly. 

"Small  consolation,  that,  in  the  present  situ- 
ation," Reggy  was  grumbling,  when  he  was 
suddenly  interrupted  by  a  pretty  black-eyed 
girl  who,  running  alongside  his  horse,  caught 
him  by  the  hand  and  forthwith  begged  a  kiss. 
I  believe — or,  rather,  I  ho])e — Reggy  blushed. 
I  should  always  like  to  think  that  at  that 
precise  moment  Reggy's  sense  of  modesty 
came  to  his  rescue.  If  it  did,  however,  it 
vanished  again  with  alarming  rapidity. 
[  <i5  ] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

"Here's  an  embarrassing  situatiorii,"  he 
cried  dolefully. 

"Very  trying,  indeed,  to  have  a  pretty  girl 
demand  a  kiss,"  I  laughed. 

"Confound  it!"  he  returned.  "That's  not 
the  trouble;  but  I'm  not  horseman  enough  to 
lean  over  and  get  it." 

There,  you  see,  Reggy  in  one  fell  moment 
had  destroyed  all  my  illusions  about  him. 
Here  was  I  worrying  over  his  distress  and 
presumed  embarrassment,  while  he,  hopeless 
young  scamp  that  he  was,  showed  actual  re- 
gret because  he  couldn't  fall  from  grace. 

"I  would  suggest  that  you  dismount,"  I 
answered,  in  a  spirit  of  sarcasm. 

For  a  moment  I  believe  this  insane  thought 
obsessed  him,  and  then  his  latent  sense  of 
military  discipline  and  dignity  saved  him. 
He  turned  regretfully  to  the  young  lady,  and 
pressing  her  hand  warmly — very  warmly,  I 
thought — broke  forth  in  schoolboy  French: 

"Merci,  cherie!  Mille  fois,  mille  fois.  An- 
other time  will  have  to  do." 

"Est-ce-que  votis  parlez  Frangais,  mon- 
sieur?" she  demanded  sweetly. 

"Rather  rough  on  your  French,  Reggy," 
[66] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

I  teased,  asking  you,  after  that  brilliant  sortie, 
if  you  really  speak  the  language." 

Regg}^  appeared  hurt. 

"Look  at  you,"  he  cried,  "riding  along  like 
a  bloated  monarcli,  scooping  in  the  obeisance 
of  the  whole  kingdom,  and  because  I  com- 
mand the  attention — and,  I  trust,  respect — of 
only  one  of  your  subjects,  you're  jealous. 
Out  upon  you — for  shame!" 

All  good  things  come  to  an  end  at  last. 
For  half  an  hour  we  had  been  princes  or 
kings,  drinking  in  the  nectar  of  adulation  in 
mighty  gulps.  It  turned  our  heads  and  made 
us  dizzy,  and  this  feeling  of  elation  lasted  long 
after  we  had  left  the  crowd  behind,  and  the 
faint  cry  of  Vive  les  Canadiens  followed  us 
into  the  darker  streets.  We  toiled  slowly 
over  the  cobble  stones,  up  the  steep  hill,  and 
finally  into  camp. 

The  camp  commandant  came  to  meet  us  a 
few  minutes  after  we  arrived.  lie  was  a  fine- 
looking  specimen  of  British  officer — tall,  ath- 
letic, with  iron-grey  hair  and  keen  blue  eyes. 
He  smiled  as  he  greeted  us. 

"Good  evening,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  as 
[07] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

the    senior    major    approached    and    saluted. 
"Where  have  you  all  come  from?" 

"Originally  from  Canada,  sir,"  the  major 
replied,  "but  recently  from  Salisbury  Plains." 

"How  interesting,"  he  cried  in  a  tone  of 
delighted  surprise.  "I  had  no  idea  the  Ca- 
nadians were  coming  to  France  so  soon." 

"Weren't  you  expecting  us,  sir?"  the  major 
ventured. 

The  commandant  laughed  good-humouredly. 
We  seemed  to  amuse  him. 

"Well,  not  exactly,"  he  replied;  "but  you 
are  quite  welcome.  Take  those  three  rows  of 
tents,  draw  your  rations  and  make  yourselves 
at  home.  One  of  these  days  orders  will  come 
along  for  you." 

One  of  these  days!  Well,  well!  Was  he 
actually  addressing  us  in  that  careless  and 
flippant  manner,  we  who  had  just  taken 
France  by  storm?  Alas!  we  were  not  so 
important  after  all.  For  a  full  hour  we  had 
looked  upon  ourselves  as  the  whole  war,  and 
the  rest  of  the  British  army  as  a  mere  back- 
ground to  our  glory.  And  now  we  were  told 
that  "one  of  these  days!"  It  was  really  too 
bad.  But  still,  he  was  kindly  and  courteous, 
[68] 


THE    ITKST    CAX.\DIANS    IX    FRANCE 

and  behind  those  smiling  eyes  hn-ked  a  great 
sjTiipathy,  I  am  sure,  for  our  little  band. 

We  looked  about  us  and  then  we  under- 
stood. There  were  miles  of  tents.  Regiments 
of  soldiers  were  marching  in  and  regiments 
were  marching  out — the  Highland  "kilties" 
with  their  sporrans  swaying  to  and  fro  in  stir- 
ring unison.  We  heaved  a  sigh.  It  was  all 
too  true.  We  were  only  one  small  cog  in 
the  great  machine! 

But  the  senior  major  was  elated  with  a 
strange  and  inexplicable  emotion.  After  the 
commandant  had  bidden  us  good-night,  he 
paced  back  and  forth,  with  his  hands  behind 
his  back  and  his  head  in  the  air.  He  raised 
his  feet  high  as  he  walked,  and  clicked  his 
spurs  with  the  firmness  of  his  tread.  Some- 
thing was  effervescing  in  his  mind,  and  soon 
would  blow  his  mental  cork  out.  What  was 
it?  He  twirled  his  moustaches  from  time 
to  time  and  smiled  a  crafty  smile.  At  last 
it  popped: 

"Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "that's  one  thing 
which  IK)  one  can  ever  take  from  me!" 

"What?"  we  cried  breathlessly. 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FKANCE 

"That  I  was  the  first  officer  who  ever  led  a 
Canadian  unit  into  France!" 

Oh,  the  supreme  egotism  and  self-love  of 
old  bachelorhood!  We  turned  away  without 
a  word,  in  time  to  hear  little  Huxford's  piping 
voice  in  ungrammatical  query. 

"Did  ye  had  a  good  time  to-night,  Bill?" 

And  Bill's  reply  echoed  the  sentiments  of 
all  our  hearts. 

"Did  I?"  he  cried  exultantly.  "Some 
class!" 


[70] 


CHAPTER    V 

How  it  stormed  that  night!  Thunder, 
lightning,  rain  and  wind  combined  in  one  up- 
roarious elemental  war.  It  seemed  as  if  no 
tent  on  earth  could  stand  the  strain.  Once 
I  peeped  outside,  and  in  the  flashes  saw 
vistas  of  tents  rolling  like  great  white-crested 
waves  on  an  operatic  sea.  From  time  to  time 
the  cracking  of  poles  and  the  dull  swish  of 
canvas,  blending  with  the  smothered  oaths  of 
men  beneath,  told  us  that  some  tent  had 
fallen. 

Reggy  slept  as  peacefully  as  a  new-born 
babe.  Tucked  into  his  canvas  sleeping-bag 
and  with  a  woollen  toque  pulled  well  down 
over  his  ears,  he  was  oblivious  to  the  storm, 
and  in  the  faint  glimmer  of  our  candle-lantern 
looked  like  an  Eskimo  at  rest. 

Peg  after  peg  jerked  out  of  the  ground, 

and  our  tent  commenced  to  rock  to  and  fro 

in  a  drunken  frenzy.    Would  the  guard  never 

come  to  tighten  the  guvs?     They  seemed  to 

[7l"] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

have  forgotten  us.  Warmly  ensconced  in 
my  blankets  and  half  asleep  in  spite  of  the 
noise,  I  lay  and  from  time  to  time  idly  won- 
dered how  much  longer  the  tent  would  stand. 

Sometimes  I  dozed  and  dreamed  of  get- 
ting up  to  fix  it,  and  saw  myself  crawling 
about  in  wet  pyjamas  in  the  wind  and  rain. 
The  thought  awoke  me;  the  tent  was  flapping 
still.  Reggy,  as  the  junior,  was  in  duty 
bound  to  right  it;  but  if  the  storm  couldn't 
wake  him,  what  could  mere  man  do?  I 
dozed  again  and  awoke  just  in  time  to  see 
the  canvas  give  one  last  wild  gyration.  Then 
it  crashed  down  upon  us. 

"Hi!      What    the    d 1    are    you    doing 

now?" 

It  was  the  sleep-saturated  voice  of  Reggy 
in  angry,  smothered  tones  beneath  the  wreck. 
For  answer  to  his  question,  a  gust  of  wind 
lifted  the  canvas  from  his  face,  and  a  spurt 
of  rain,  with  the  force  of  a  garden  hose,  struck 
him. 

"O  Lord!"  he  howled.  "The  bally  tent's 
blown  down!"  Reggy's  perspicacity,  while 
sluggish,  was  accurate. 

"Get  up,  you  lazy  blighter,  and  lend  a 
[72] 


THE    FIRST    CANxVDIANS    IN    FRANCE 

hand!"  I  shouted  between  blasts  of  wind  and 
rain  which  soaked  me  tlirough  and  through. 

"Ugh!  You  wouldn't  ask  a  chap  to  get 
up  in  a  storm  like  this,"  he  cried  appeal- 
ingly. 

I  didn't.  I  merely  took  the  lower  end  of 
his  sleeping-bag  and  emptied  it,  as  one  would 
a  sack  of  potatoes,  onto  the  floor.  Reggy 
emerged*  like   a   rumpled   blue-bird. 

"Rotten  trick,  I  call  that,"  he  grumbled, 
as  he  scrambled  to  his  feet. 

Luckily  by  this  time  the  guard  arrived  to 
help  us,  and  after  a  long  tussle  with  the  ropes, 
the  tent  was  pitched  once  more,  and  we 
crawled  back  to  bed. 

The  morning  sun  rose  clear  and  bright 
and  smiled  as  if  it  had  no  memories  of  the 
night  before.  Wherever  one  might  look 
tents  lay  in  heaps  upon  the  ground,  but  not 
a  breath  of  wind  stirred  the  fresh  cool  air. 
Fainter  and  more  faint  from  the  distance 
came  the  weird  strain  of  the  bagpipes — a 
Highland  regiment  was  passing  down  the 
liill,  starting  on  that  long  journey  whence 
all  might  not  return. 

Our  men  had  breakfasted  and  were  alre:i.! 
[73] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

at  work  raising  the  fallen  tents.  The  ad- 
jutant emerged  from  his  abode  wearing  a 
weary  smile — he  hadn't  slept  much. 

'"What  of  the  night?'"  he  cried.  "The 
storm  has  given  me  an  appetite.  Where's 
breakfast?  I'm  as  hungry  as  an  R.M.C. 
cadet." 

Where  indeed  was  breakfast?  As  yet  we 
had  no  "mess";  our  goods  were  still  un- 
packed. 

"There's  a  soldiers'  buffet  managed  by 
ladies  in  the  cottage  yonder,"  said  Fraser, 
pointing  to  a  brick  house  on  the  crest  of 
the  hill.  Trust  Fraser  to  know  where  grub 
abounds!  "Perhaps  I  can  persuade  the  lit- 
tle lady  of  the  place  .  .  ." 

"You'll  need  help,"  Reggy  interpolated 
hastily.  "Some  one  with  persuasive  powers. 
I'll  go  along." 

Reggy's  eagerness  to  go  suggested  other 
distractions  than  foraging.  We  said  we  would 
accompany  him — lest  he  forget.  We  entered 
a  long  room  at  the  rear  of  the  house,  which 
had  been  a  carpenter's  shop  before  the  war. 
It  was  furnished  with  two  long  tables,  benches, 
and  a  large  number  of  kitchen  chairs.  The 
[74] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

carpenter's  tools  hung  unused  upon  the  walL 
At  the  farther  end  of  tlie  room  several  young 
women  and  one  of  maturer  years  were  rapidly 
cutting  up  bread  and  meat  for  sandwiches, 
buttering  appetising  French  rolls  and  plac- 
ing them  all  in  large  baskets.  It  looked 
enough  to  feed  a  multitude. 

We  api^roached  the  table.  One  young 
woman  looked  up,  apparently  more  from 
courtesy  than  with  any  special  interest  in 
our   arrival,   and    said:     "Good   morning!" 

It  was  true  then;  they  were  English- 
women. They  were  as  cool — and  refreshing 
— as  the  air  outside.     Reggy  saluted  gravely. 

"3Iay  we  have  something  to  eat,  please?" 
he  inquired  hesitatingly. 

The  young  woman  looked  up  again,  with 
a  surprised  smile.  "But  you  are  not  Tom- 
mies," she  replied. 

"No;  merely  officers,  and  very  hungry  ones 
at  that." 

She  looked  a  trifle  perplexed.  "We  don't 
serve  officers  here,"  she  asserted.  "You  see, 
this  buff^et  is  meant  for  Tommies  only." 

Bless  their  hearts!  Here  at  least  was  one 
place  where  the  officer  was  discounted,  and 
[75] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

Tommy  was  king.  We  had  been  feted  and 
pampered  to  such  an  extent  that  we  had  lost 
sight  of  the  true  proportion  of  things.  Here 
were  women  who  realised  that  Tommy  is  quite 
as  important  as  his  officer,  that  he  is  a  man 
and  as  such  has  rights.  We  honoured  the 
young  women  who  could  thus  devote  them- 
selves to  the  men  who  really  needed  their 
help  most.  But  this  elevating  thought  did 
not  appease  our  hunger  in  the  least.  We  still 
wanted  something  to  eat,  and  the  dainty  food 
before  us  failed  to  modify  our  internal  crav- 
ings. 

"Couldn't  we  have  just  one  bun?"  Reggy 
coaxed. 

The  young  woman  smilingly  shook  her 
head.     "It's  against  our  rules,"   she  replied. 

Reggy  looked  distressed.  We  imitated  his 
look  with  such  success  that  another  young 
woman,  who  seemed  to  be  the  one  in  au- 
thority, came  forward  and  volunteered: 

"If  you  will  step  into  the  house,  gentle- 
men, I  shall  see  what  the  concierge  can  do 
for  you  there." 

That  we  didn't  fall  upon  her  neck  in  sheer 
thankfulness  speaks  well  for  our  self-control. 
[76] 


THE    FIRST    CAN.U)1AXS    IN    FRANCE 

We  kept  sufficient  restraint  upon  ourselves, 
however,  to  merely  murmur  our  gratitude  in 
becoming  words,  ^^^e  explained  that  we  had 
just  arrived,  and  that  our  mess  was  not  yet 
open. 

"Well,  well,"  she  laughed.  "Of  course,  we 
can't  let  you  starve,  but  you  really  mustn't 
eat  in  here." 

If  the  angels  in  heaven  look  anything  like 
tliat  sweet  young  woman  as  she  appeared  to 
us  at  that  moment — well,  it's  a  great  incentive 
to  lead  a  good  life,  that's  all. 

We  were  ushered  into  a  quaint  French 
dining-room,  furnished  with  hand-carved  ma- 
hogany. That  a  carpenter  should  have  such 
exquisite  taste  surprised  us.  We  were  yet 
to  learn  that  the  artistic  sense  is  a  keynote 
of  French  cliaracter.  The  owner  of  the  cot- 
tage was  away  at  the  war;  he  w^as  one  of 
the  poilus  who  were  then,  and  are  still,  up- 
liolding  the  martial  traditions  of  a  noble  fight- 
ing race.  His  wife  spread  a  dainty  table 
for  us,  and  we  breakfasted  for  the  first  time 
in  France. 

Our  menu  consisted  of  small  mackerel,  rolls 
and  coffee!     How  prosaic  it  sounds  in  Eng- 
[77] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

lish!  We  shall  always  remember  that  petit 
dejeuner  in  French :  Petits  maqueraux,  petits 
pains  et  cafe-au-lait.  What  music  there  is  in 
such  a  language!  The  food  itself  loses  its 
identity  and  is  transformed  into  the  sustenance 
of  the  gods ! 

Days  passed  by,  but  there  was  no  word 
from  our  colonel,  and  no  orders  came  for  us 
to  move.  Had  they  all  forgotten  us?  Had 
we  by  mischance  taken  the  wrong  boat  and 
landed  in  the  wrong  part  of  France?  What 
had  become  of  our  colonel  and  the  rest  of 
our  unit?  These  thoughts  perplexed  and  wor- 
ried us.  But  one  day,  as  we  were  lunching, 
a  messenger  suddenly  appeared  at  the  tent 
door  and  asked  for  the  senior  major. 

"Telegram  for  you,  sir,"  he  said. 

The  major  slowly  unfolded  it,  read  it  as 
slowly,  refolded  it  and  placed  it  in  his  pocket 
without  a  word.  Could  it  be  from  the  colonel? 
If  so,  where  was  he?  The  major  continued 
his  meal.  At  last  Fraser  could  bear  the  sus- 
pense no  longer. 

"Was  that  a  message  from  the  colonel?" 
he  inquired  anxiously. 

"It  was,"  the  major  replied. 
[78] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

One  might  have  heard  the  proverbial  piii 
drop — the  strain  was  so  intense.  Wonld  he 
never  go  on?  Were  we  to  hear  nothing 
further? 

Fraser  ventured  again:  "What  does  he 
say?" 

The  senior  major  got  up  and  left  the  tent 
without  a  word. 

Even  after  all  these  months  it  pains  me 
to  record  the  bitter  disappointment  of  that 
moment.  All  men  have  their  peculiarities — 
Some  are  afflicted  more  than  others.  We  may 
forgive,  but  we  cannot  always  forget.  And 
yet  he  had  his  good  points,  too;  he  wasn't 
quite  all  bad.  Perhaps  Eraser's  question  was 
injudicious;  perhaps  he  hadn't  been  deferen- 
tial enough  to  his  senior  officer.  At  any  rate 
it  was  two  days  later  when  we  first  heard 
the  news.  The  adjutant,  wlio  had  been  taken 
into  the  major's  confidence,  whispered  the 
message  to  us: 

"The  colonel  is  at  Boulogne,  and  orders 
will  be  sent  us  in  a  few  days  to  join  him.  I 
have  been  told  not  to  tell  you,  but  I  must 
relieve   your  anxiety.     Keep   it   secret!" 

How  we  loved  him  for  his  thoughtfulness! 
[79] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

The  tension  was  broken.  We  were  once  more 
happy  and  content. 

Three  days  later  the  order  came  to  move. 
We  were  to  entrain  at  midnight,  and  all  day 
long  we  were  busy  packing.  By  nine  every- 
thing was  ready.  The  motor  lorries  were 
loaded,  and  we  started  our  march  toward  the 
train.  It  was  a  pitch-black  night  and  rain 
swept  the  streets  in  chilling  torrents. 

One  of  the  horses  of  our  team  had  a  chafed 
back  and  could  not  be  harnessed,  so  that  my 
horse  was  selected  to  take  his  place.  The 
wagon  was  piled  high  with  the  kit-bags  of 
the  men,  and  from  this  elevation  one  of  the 
orderlies  held  the  halter  of  the  sick  horse, 
which  followed  behind.  We  started  down 
the  steep  hill  from  the  camp,  horses  and  men 
alike  slipping  upon  the  wet  and  greasy  cobble- 
stones. 

Suddenly  a  slight  explosion  startled  the 
led  horse.  He  reared  upon  his  hind  legs, 
jerked  the  halter  from  the  hand  of  the  or- 
derly and  bolted  down  the  hill  into  the  dark- 
ness. Who  would  dare  follow  him?  To  ride 
down  that  incline  at  any  rate  faster  than  a 
walk  was  sheer  recklessness.  Surely  no  horse 
[80] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

or  man  who  attempted  to  do  so  would  return 
alive.  But  Huxford,  putting  spurs  to  his  horse, 
plunged  down  the  hill  at  breakneck  speed, 
a  shower  of  sparks  flying  out  on  either  side 
as  the  horse's  steel  shoes  struck  the  stones. 

"Good  God!"  cried  Barker;  "he'll  never 
come  back — he's  a  dead  man!" 

"Why  didn't  he  let  the  horse  go?"  cried  the 
senior  major  anxiously.  "Now  we've  lost  two 
horses  and  a  man.  He  doesn't  know  the  city 
or  where  we  are  going,  and  even  if  he  gets 
through  alive,  he'll  never  find  us  again." 

"How  could  he  expect  to  overtake  a  run- 
away horse  in  a  strange  city  on  a  night  like 
this?     It's  madness!"  exclaimed  the  adjutant. 

"He  was  a  fine  lad,"  said  the  quartermaster 
sadly,  as  though  Huxford  were  already  dead. 
"Seems  such  a  pity  to  lose  him.  I  didn't 
think  he  had  the  courage  to  do  it." 

But  war  shatters  preconceived  ideas.  No 
one  can  tell  which  men  are  brave  until  the 
crisis  comes.  Those  who  seem  strongest  fail; 
those  who  seem  weakest  succeed. 

A  gloom  had  been  cast  over  us  all.  We 
despaired  of  seeing  Huxford  again — except 
perhai)s  to  find  his  mangled  body  somewhere 
[81] 


THE    FIRST    CAN.SDIANS    IN    FRANCE 

at  the  foot  of  that  long  hill.  When  we  reached 
the  bottom  he  wasn't  there,  and  we  went  on 
despondently  for  a  mile  or  more,  knowing  the 
hopelessness  of  trying  to  find  him;  when  sud- 
denly, as  we  turned  a  corner,  he  appeared,  still 
on  horseback  and  leading  the  runaway.  A 
cheer  from  the  boys  greeted  him. 

"Well  done,  Huxford!"  cried  the  senior 
major.  "We  never  expected  to  see  you 
again!" 

"I  couldn't  let  him  go,  sir,  'cause  th'  colonel 
giv'  th'  horses  into  my  charge,  an'  he  had  to  be 
caught." 

May  we  all  fulfil  our  duty  as  faithfully  as 
this  lad! 

The  queer  little  French  train,  with  its  cars 
marked  eight  chevauoc — forty  hoinmes  (8 
horses — 40  men)  was  waiting  at  the  station 
when  we  arrived.  The  transport  officer  had 
told  the  senior  major  not  to  leave  until  he  had 
received  his  papers,  but  to  get  the  men  and 
horses  aboard. 

Shortly  before  midnight  all  were  entrained. 
The  equipment  and  horses  were  loaded,  but 
there  was  no  sign  of  either  engine  or  conduc- 
tor.    We  unrolled  our  sleeping-bags,  placed 
[82] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

them  upon  the  seats  in  the  compartment  coach 
and  fell  asleep.  At  four  a.m.  we  were  awak- 
ened hy  an  angry  discussion  taking  place  on 
the  train  platform.  One  voice  was  French,  evi- 
dently that  of  the  train  conductor;  the  other 
was  umnistakably  that  of  the  senior  major. 
He  was  talking  very  loudly: 

"I  tell  you,  you  can't  move  this  train  one 
inch  until  I  get  my  papers." 

The  reply  was  in  French: 

''Comprend  pas,  monsieur!''  Evidently  he 
was  about  to  signal  the  engineer  to  start. 

"Stop!  I  command  you  to  stop!"  shouted 
the  major  again. 

The  Frenchman  understood  tlie  action,  if  he 
failed  to  understand  the  words.  ''II  faut  partir 
tout  de  suite,  monsieur,"  he  replied  with  re- 
sjDcctful  firmness,  and  then,  placing  the  bugle 
to  his  lips,  he  blew  a  signal  to  the  engineer  and 
the  train  started. 

The  major  sprang  from  the  platform  just 
in  time  to  catch  his  coach.  He  had  not  received 
the  papers,  and  had  had  an  unintelligible 
wordy  duel  in  which  he  had  been  vanquished. 
He  was  boiling  with  rage. 
[83] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

"If  I  had  my  way,"  he  stormed,  "there  would 
be  only  one  language  in  the  world!" 

We  were  off  once  more.  We  had  but  a  faint 
idea  of  where  we  were  going,  but  we  were  on 
our  way. 


[84] 


CHAPTER  VI 

When  we  awoke  the  sun  was  high  in  the 
heavens,  and  through  the  train  windows  we 
could  see  the  steep  hanks  of  the  Seine  as  we 
wound  along  that  picturesque  river  toward 
Rouen.  From  time  to  time  we  passed  small 
villages,  the  red  tile  of  their  roofs  contrasting 
prettily  with  the  snow-white  of  the  walls. 
Some  houses  were  decorated  with  bright  blue 
or  green,  and  as  they  swept  by  the  window  in 
kaleidoscopic  array,  the  scene  was  one  of  mani- 
fold variety. 

The  French  love  a  dash  of  colour;  it  is  mani- 
fest everywhere — in  their  clothes,  their  houses 
and  their  military  uniforms.  In  the  larger 
cities  where  civilisation  is  over-developed,  and 
humanity  is  more  effete,  the  bright  colours  have 
given  place  to  pale  and  delicate  shades — an  in- 
dication of  that  transformation  of  life  which 
we  call  art.  But  in  these  little  country  villages, 
a  thousand  years  or  more  behind  the  times, 
Dame  Nature  still  holds  sway,  and  the  primary 
[85] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

colours  riot  in  their  rugged  strength.  Cen- 
turies from  now  these  rural  hamlets,  grown  to 
greater  size,  losing  their  primitive  audacity, 
will  fade  as  well ;  and  looking  back  will  marvel 
at  the  boldness  of  their  youth. 

Every  quarter-mile  along  the  track  a  lone 
sentinel,  in  sky-blue  coat  and  scarlet  cap, 
guarded  our  path.  With  fixed  haionette  he 
stood  hour  by  hour,  w^atchful  and  keen.  He 
had  a  little  thatched  sentry-box  into  which  he 
might  retire  when  it  rained,  and  through  the 
small  round  windows  watch  on  either  side. 

As  we  pulled  into  the  railway  station  at 
Rouen,  we  could  see  resourceful  "Tommy" 
cooking  his  breakfast  on  a  little  charcoal  stove. 
"Tommy"  is  always  at  home,  no  matter  where 
we  find  him — whether  it  be  on  the  battlefields 
of  France  or  Belgium,  or  on  the  rock-bound 
shores  of  Gallipoli. 

Our  men  descended  from  their  coaches, 
lugged  out  their  bags  of  bread,  their  cheese  and 
jam  and  "bully-beef."  The  sergeant-cook 
meted  out  each  share,  and  they  soon  were  at 
their  morning  meal. 

A  few  hours  later  Reggy  and  I  were  seated 
at  luncheon  in  the  Hotel  de  la  Poste.  The 
[86] 


THE    FIKST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

sallc  a  manger  was  filled  with  English, 
French  and  Belgian  officers,  and  their  wives  or 
friends,  and  to  the  casual  observer  the  place 
was  as  gay  as  in  times  of  peace.  But  in  spite 
of  the  bright  colours  of  the  uniforms,  in  spite 
of  the  "chic"  Parisian  hats  and  pretty  faces  of 
the  ladies,  one  felt  over  all  an  atmosphere  sub- 
dued and  serious. 

It  is  true  wine  sparkled  upon  almost  every 
table,  but  in  France  this  doesn't  necessarily 
mean  gaiety.  Every  Frenchman  drinks  wine, 
but  it  is  very  rare  indeed  to  see  one  drunk. 
Wine,  like  water  at  home,  is  used  as  a  beverage 
— not  as  an  intoxicant. 

Imbued  with  the  spirit  of  the  time  and  place, 
Regg}'  and  I  called  for  a  bottle  of  old  Chain- 
hcrtin,  and  under  its  mellowing  influence, 
care  and  the  war  were  soon  forgotten. 

Of  course  we  visited  the  Cathedral,  and 
listened  to  the  old  sexton  pouring  incompre- 
hensible data  into  our  stupid  ears  for  half  an 
hour  while  we  examined  the  rare  stained  win- 
dows and  the  carA  ed  oak  door.  When  we  re- 
turned to  the  train,  the  senior  major  and  the 
transport  officer  were  deep  in  conversation: 
[87] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

"But  where  are  your  papers?"  the  R.  T.  O. 
was  asking. 

"We  haven't  any,"  the  major  repHed. 
"That  French  conductor  wouldn't  hold  the 
train  until  they  arrived.  Can't  we  go  on  with- 
out them?" 

"Where  are  you  going?" 

"We  presume  to  Boulogne — the  resrt;  of  the 
unit  is  there,  but  we  have  no  orders.  When 
does  the  train  leave,  please?" 

"There'll  be  one  at  3  p.m.,  and  if  you  wish  to 
take  that,  get  your  men  aboard." 

We  might  have  been  touring  France — he 
was  so  nonchalant,  and  there  was  such  an  ab- 
sence of  "red-tape."  Imagine  in  these  hyper- 
martial  days  being  told  to  "take  the  3  p.m. 
train  if  we  wished!"  Nowadays  it  is  not  a 
matter  of  volition;  units  go  where  and  when 
they  are  commanded,  and  a  definite  system  has 
replaced  haphazard.  But  the  old  way  had  its 
good  points — it  still  let  one  believe  he  was  in 
part  his  own  master. 

Having  a  sense  of  duty  and,  moreover,  being 

anxious   to    reach   our   destination — wherever 

that  might  be — we  entrained  once  more  and 

travelled  all  the  balance  of  that  day  and  night. 

[88] 


THE    FIKST    CANADIANS    IN    FKANCE 

Promptly  at  3  p.m.  Keggy  fell  ^sleep,  and 
didn't  wake  once,  not  even  to  eat,  until  the  fol- 
lowing morning  at  six  o'clock,  when  with  a 
crash  he  was  thrown  off  his  couch  to  the  floor  of 
the  train.  Thus  rudely  startled,  but  not  quite 
wide  awake,  he  ejaculated: 

"Torpedoed,  by  Gad!" 

We  didn't  take  time  to  wake  Reggy  and  ex- 
plain the  situation,  but  sprang  to  our  feet  and 
threw  open  the  door  of  the  train.  What  had 
happened?  We  were  at  Boulogne;  our  train 
had  collided  w'ith  another  in  the  railway  yards, 
but  fortunately  only  one  coach  was  crushed  and 
no  one  hurt.  We  descended  to  the  tracks  and 
found  other  coaches  on  other  trains  in  a  similar 
condition. 

It  was  not  difficult  to  understand  the  cause. 
The  German  spy  leaves  nothing  undone,  and 
was  very  careful  to  attend  to  such  details  as 
changing  the  railway  switches  to  the  wrong 
tracks.  By  now  the  spies  have  been  aknost 
completely  weeded  out ;  but  in  those  days  they 
were  very  active. 

IIow  thorough  was  their  system  was  well 
illustrated  when,  later  on,  the  Western  Cavalry 
entered  the  trenches.  A  wooden  horse  rose  in- 
[89] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

stantly  above  the  German  trench,  bearing  this 
legend:  "Western  Cavahy,  come  over  and  get 
your  horses!"  Our  boys  promptly  shot  the 
offending  animal  full  of  holes.  It  fell;  but  in 
a  moment  was  raised  again  with  bandages 
about  its  neck  and  leg! 

Despite  the  early  morning  hour,  in  a  rail- 
way car  a  few  yards  from  us,  several  young 
Englishwomen  were  busy  serving  hot  cocoa 
and  rolls  to  the  hungry  soldiers.  The  interior 
of  the  coach  had  been  transformed  into  a  kit- 
chen and  travelling  buffet.  Every  man  in  uni- 
form was  welcome  to  enter  and  partake  free 
of  charge.  We  took  advantage  of  this  prac- 
tical hospitality  and,  much  refreshed,  returned 
to  our  own  train. 

At  another  platform  a  regiment  of  Ghurkas 
were  engaged  loading  their  equipment.  One 
came  across  to  our  engine  and  drawing  some 
hot  water  from  the  boiler,  washed  his  teeth  and 
mouth  with  infinite  care. 

The  Ghurka  is  so  like  the  Jap  in  appearance 
that  when,  later,  we  saw  a  body  of  these  brave 
little  chaps,  with  their  turned-up  Stetson  hats, 
marching  along  the  street,  for  a  moment  we 
actually  mistook  them  for  our  Oriental  allies. 
[90] 


THE    FIRST    CAN.VDIANS    IX    FRANCE 

It  was  only  when  we  observed  their  short  broad 
swords  (kukris)  that  we  realised  it  could  be 
none  other  than  these  famous  men  from  India. 

The  colonel  was  at  the  station  to  meet  us. 
How  glad  we  were  to  see  his  genial  face  once 
more ! 

"Your  billets  are  all  arranged,"  he  said. 
"The  officers  will  stay  at  the  Louvre  and  the 
non-commissioned  officers  and  men  at  the 
Jean  d'arc  theatre." 

The  men  were  lined-up  and,  now  that  the 
imit  was  once  more  complete,  formed  (juite  an 
imposing  sight.  In  those  days  medical  units 
wore  the  red  shoulder  straps;  the  privilege  of 
retaining  these  coloured  straps  has  been 
granted  only  to  members  of  the  First  Con- 
tingent. 

The  men  marched  across  Le  Pont  Mar- 
guet,  up  tlie  main  thoroughfare,  along  the 
Rue  Victor  Hugo,  crossing  the  market 
place,  and  in  a  narrow  street  not  far  from  the 
market  found  the  little  theatre.  It  made  a 
perfect  billet,  the  main  hall  serving  as  a  mess 
room,  and  the  gallery  as  an  excellent  dormi- 
tory. 

The  quartermaster,  Reggv,  and  I  were  oil- 
[91]     " 


THE   riKST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

leted  in  one  large  room  at  the  Louvre.  Our 
window  overlooked  the  basin  and  across 
the  quay  we  could  see  the  fish-wives  un- 
loading the  herring  boats  as  they  arrived  in 
dozens.  With  their  queer  wooden  shoes 
(sabots)  they  clack-clacked  across  the  cobble- 
stones; their  large  baskets,  overflowing  with 
fish,  strapped  to  their  backs.  Among  all  the 
varied  odours  of  that  odorous  city,  that  of  fish 
rises  supreme.  It  saluted  our  nostrils  when  we 
marched  in  the  streets,  and  was  wafted  in  at 
our  windows  when  the  thoughtless  breeze  ven- 
tured our  way. 

We  could  see  too,  the  Channel  boats  arriv- 
ing at  the  dock,  bringing  battalion  after  bat- 
talion of  troops.  These  rapidly  entrained,  and 
were  whisked  away  in  the  shrill-whistling  little 
French  trains  toward  the  battlefront. 

Sometimes  convoys  of  London  'busses,  now 
bereft  of  their  advertisements  and  painted  dull 
grey,  filled  with  "Tommies"  destined  for  the 
"big  show,"  passed  by  the  door  and  rolled  away 
into  the  far  beyond. 

The  second  morning  of  our  stay  at  Boulogne 
Reggy  awoke  feeling  that  he  really  must  have 
a  bath.  Why  he  should  consider  himself  dif- 
[92] 


THE    FIR^T    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

fereiit  from  all  the  otlier  people  in  France,  is 
a  matter  I  am  not  prepared  to  discuss.  A 
bath,  in  France,  is  a  luxury,  so  to  speak,  and  is 
indulged  in  at  infrequent  intervals — on  fete 
days  or  some  other  such  auspicious  occasion. 

lie  rang  the  hell  to  summon  the  maid.  In 
a  few  moments  a  tousled  blonde  head-of-hair, 
surmounted  by  a  scrap  of  old  lace,  was  thrust 
inside  the  door. 

''Monsieur?'^     it  enquired. 

Reggy  prided  himself  upon  his  French — he 
had  taken  a  high  place  in  college  in  this  par- 
ticular subject,  but,  as  he  remarked  deprecat- 
ingly,  his  French  seemed  a  bit  too  refined  for 
the  lower  classes,  who  couldn't  grasp  its 
subtleties. 

"Je  veux  un  bain/'  he  said. 

He  was  startled  by  the  ease  with  which  she 
understood.  Could  it  be  that  he  looked — but, 
no,  he  appeared  as  clean  as  the  rest  of  us.  At 
any  rate,  she  res^^onded  at  once  in  French: 

"Out,  monsieur.  I'll  bring  it  in  to  you." 
She  withdrew  her  head  and  closed  the  door. 

"What  the  deuce,"  cried  Reggy,  as  he  sat  up 
quickly   in   bed.      "She'll   briny  in  the   bath! 
Does  she  take  me  for  a  canary?" 
[93] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FEANCE 

"A  canary  doesn't  make  such  a  dickens  of 
a  row  as  you  do,"  growled  the  quartermaster, 
"looking  for  a  bath  at  six  a.m." 

I  tried  to  console  him  by  reminding  him  that 
it  was  much  better  to  have  Reggy  sweet  and 
clean  than  in  his  present  state,  but  he  said  it 
made  small  difference  to  him  as  he  had  a  cold 
in  his  head  anyway.  Reggy,  as  an  interested 
third  party,  began  to  look  upon  our  contro- 
versy as  somewhat  personal,  and  was  about  to 
interfere  when  a  rap  at  the  door  cut  short 
further  argument. 

Two  chambermaids  entered  the  room,  carry- 
ing between  them  a  tin  pan  about  two  feet  in 
diameter  and  six  inches  in  depth.  It  contained 
about  a  gallon  of  hot  water.  They  placed  it 
beside  his  bed. 

''Void,  monsieur!"  cried  she  of  the  golden 
locks. 

Reggy  leaned  over  the  side  of  the  bed  and 
looked  down  at  it. 

"Sacre  sabre  de  bois/'  he  exclaimed.  "It 
isn't  a  drink  I  want — it's  a  bath — 'bain' — to 
wash — 'laver'  ye  know!" 

He  made  motions  with  his  hands  in  excel- 
lent imitation  of  a  gentleman  performing  his 
[94] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

morning  ablutions.  They  nodded  approv- 
ingly, and  laughed: 

"Oiii,  moimeur — it  is  the  bath." 

"Well,  I'll  be  d "     But  before  Reggy 

could  conclude  the  two  maids  had  smilingly 
withdrawn. 

Reggy  explored  the  room  in  his  pyjamas 
and  emptied  our  three  water  pitchers  into  the 
pan. 

"Now  I'll  at  least  be  able  to  get  my  feet 
wet,"  he  grumbled.  "Where's  the  soap?"  he 
exclaimed  a  moment  later.  "There  isn't  a  bally 
cake  of  soaj^  in  the  room." 

It  was  true.  This  is  one  of  the  petty  annoy- 
ances of  French  hotels.  Soap  is  never  in  the 
room  and  must  be  purchased  as  an  extra,  al- 
ways at  the  most  inopportune  moment.  After 
half  an  hour's  delay  Reggj^  succeeded  in  buy- 
ing a  cake  from  the  porter,  and  his  bath  pro- 
ceeded without  further  mishap.  He  then  tum- 
bled into  bed  again  and  fell  asleep. 

The  maids  shortly  returned  to  carry  out  the 
bath,  but  when  they  saw  how  Reggy  had  ex- 
hausted all  the  water  in  the  room  they  held  up 
their  hands  in  undisguised  astonishment. 

"^Monsieur  is  extravagant,"  they  exclaimed, 
[95] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 


"to  waste  so  much  water !"  Fortunately  "Mon- 
sieur" was  fast  asleep,  so  the  remark  passed 
unnoticed. 

Later  we  approached  the  concierge,  and 
asked  here  if  there  were  not  a  proper  bath-tub 
in  the  place.  She  laughed.  Les  Anglais 
were  so  much  like  ducks — they  wanted  to  be 
always  in  the  water. 

"But  I  will  soon  have  it  well  for  you,"  she 
declaimed  with  pride.  "I  am  having  two  bath 
tubs  placed  in  the  cellar,  and  then  you  may 
play  in  the  water  all  the  day." 

At  the  time  we  looked  upon  this  as  her  little 
joke,  but  when,  weeks  later,  one  early  morning 
we  noticed  a  tall  Anglais  walking  through 
the  hotel  "lounge"  in  his  pyjamas,  with  bath 
towel  thrown  across  his  arm,  we  realised  that 
she  had  spoken  truth.  The  bath  tubs  were 
really  and  truly  in  the  cellar. 

It  was  ten  days  before  we  succeeded  in  locat- 
ing the  building  which  we  wanted  for  our  hos- 
pital. All  the  suitable  places  in  Boulogne 
were  long  since  commandeered.  Every  large 
building,  including  all  the  best  hotels,  had  been 
turned  into  hospitals,  so  that  we  were  forced  to 
go  far  afield.  Finally,  twenty-two  miles  from 
[96] 


THE    riKST    CANADIANS    IX    FRANCE 

the  city,  we  found  a  summer  hotel  exactly 
suited  to  our  needs.  It  was  in  a  pine  forest, 
and  close  to  the  sea  shore,  an  ideal  spot  for  a 
hospital. 

During  these  ten  days  the  talent  of  our 
corps  conceived  the  idea  of  holding  a  concert 
in  the  Jean  d'arc  hall. 

At  this  time  all  theatres,  music  halls,  and 
even  "movies"  in  France  were  closed,  and 
music  was  tabooed.  France  was  taking  the 
war  seriously.  She  was  mourning  her  dead 
and  the  loss  of  her  lands.  The  sword  had  been 
thrust  deeply  into  her  bosom,  and  the  wound 
was  by  no  means  healed.  The  streets  were 
filled  with  widows,  and  their  long  black  veils 
symbolised  the  depth  of  the  nation's  grief. 

Let  those  who  will  admire  the  light-hearted- 
ness  of  Britain — Britain  wears  no  mourning 
for  her  heroes  dead.  In  Britain  it  is  hour- 
gems  to  be  despondent.  We  keep  up  an  ap- 
pearance of  gaiety  even  when  our  hearts  are 
heaviest.  But  France  is  too  natural,  too  frank 
for  such  deception.  What  she  feels,  she  shows 
upon  the  surface.  At  first  our  apparent  in- 
difference to  our  losses  and  hers  was  a  source 
of  irritation.  France  resented  it;  but  now  she 
[97] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FKANCE 

knows  US  better.  We  are  not  indifferent — it 
is  merely  an  attitude.  The  two  nations  now 
understand  one  another,  and  in  that  under- 
standing lies  the  foundation  of  a  firmer  friend- 
ship. 

With  success  and  confidence  in  the  future, 
France  has  risen  out  of  the  "slough  of  de- 
spond." She  has  recovered  a  portion  of  her 
old-time  light-heartedness.  We  thought  her 
effervescent,  artificial  and  unstable;  we  have 
found  her  steadfast,  true  and  unshakable.  She 
has  manifested  throughout  this  desperate 
struggle  a  grim  and  immutable  determination 
that  has  been  the  marvel  of  her  allies  and  the 
despair  of  her  enemies. 

Realising  the  temporary  distaste  for  amuse- 
ment in  France,  our  little  concert  was  intended 
to  be  private  and  confined  solely  to  our  own 
unit.  But  a  few  of  the  new-found  French 
friends  of  the  boys  waived  their  objections  to 
entertainment,  and  as  a  special  favour  volun- 
teered to  come. 

It  was  a  strange  and  moving  sight  to  see  a 

Canadian  audience  in  that  far-off  land,  gravely 

seated  in  their  chairs  in  the  little  hall,  waiting 

for  the  curtain  to  rise.     Our  staff  of  Nursing 

[98] 


THE    SONG    WAS    SAD— HUT    Wi:    r.AUGIlF.r)    ANT)    LAUGITfin    UNTU.    \VK 
WEPT   AGAIN 


THE    FIRST    CANxVDIANS    IN    FRANCE 

Sisters  honoured  the  boys  with  their  presence, 
and  every  officer  and  man  was  there.  Thirty 
or  forty  of  the  native  population,  in  black,  a 
little  doubtful  of  the  propriety  of  their  action, 
were  scattered  through  the  kliaki-clad. 

The  boys  outdid  themselves  that  night.  How 
well  they  sang  those  songs  of  home !  We  were 
carried  back  thousands  of  miles  across  the  deep 
to  our  dear  old  Canada,  and  many  an  eye  was 
wet  witli  tears  which  dare  not  fall. 

But  reminiscence  fled  when  Sergeant  Honk 
assumed  the  stage.  Some  one  had  told  Honk 
he  could  sing,  and — subtle  flatterer — he  had 
been  believed.  With  the  first  wild  squeaky 
note  we  were  back,  pell-mell  in  France.  The 
notes  rose  and  fell — but  mostly  fell ;  stumbling 
over  and  over  one  anotlier  in  their  vain  en- 
deavour to  escape  from  Honk.  Some  main- 
tained he  sang  by  ear.  Perhaps  he  did — he 
didn't  sing  by  mouth  and  chords  long  lost  to 
human  ken  came  whistling  through  his  nose. 
The  song  was  sad — but  we  laughed  and 
laughed  until  we  wept  again. 

At  the  end  of  the  first  verse  he  seemed  a 
little  bewildered  by  the  effect,  but  he  had  no 
advantage  over  us  in  that  respect.  At  the  end 
[99] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

of  the  second  verse,  seeing  his  hearers  in  danger 
of  apoplexy,  he  hesitated,  and  turning  to  Tay- 
lor, the  pianist,  muttered  in  an  aside : 

"They  downt  understand  h'English,  them 
bloakes — this  ayn't  a  funny  song — blimed  if 
I  downt  quit  right  'ere,  and  serve  'em  jolly 
well  right  too!" 

And  under  a  perfect  storm  of  applause  and 
cries  of  protest.  Honk  departed  as  he  had  come 
— anglewise. 

Tim  and  his  brother  then  had  a  boxing-bout ; 
and  Cameron,  who  acted  as  Tim's  second,  drew 
shrieks  of  joy  from  his  French  admirers,  be- 
tween rounds,  as  he  filled  his  mouth  with  water 
arid  blew  it  like  a  penny  shower  into  the  per- 
spiring breathless  face  of  Tim. 

"A  wee  drap  watter  refraishes  ye,  Tim,"  he 
declared  argumentatively  after  one  of  these 
showers. 

"Doze  Pea- jammers  tinks  it's  funny,"  Tim 
puffed.  "Let  dem  have  a  good  time — dey  ain't 
see'd  nuthin'  much  lately — an'  a  good  laff  'ull 
help  dem  digest  dere  'patty  de  frog-grass!" 


[100] 


CHAPTER  VII 

It  was  my  fate,  or  fortune,  to  be  in  charge 
of  the  advance  party  which  was  detailed  to  pre- 
pare for  the  opening  of  our  hospital. 

Captain  Eurnham  and  I,  with  about  forty 
N.C.O.s  and  men,  and  with  two  days'  rations, 
left  Boulogne  one  cold  November  afternoon,  a 
few  days  after  the  concert.  After  a  slow  train 
journey  of  three  hoiu's'  duration,  we  were  de- 
posited at  the  railway  station  of  a  fishing  vil- 
lage on  the  coast. 

If  Boulogne  prides  itself  on  its  odour  of  dead 
fish,  this  little  place  must  be  an  everlasting 
tliorn  in  its  side;  for  all  the  smells  of  that 
maladorous  city  fade  into  insignificance  before 
the  concentrated  "incense"  of  the  back  streets 
of  Etaples.  We  didn't  linger  unnecessarily  in 
the  village,  but  pushed  on  at  the  "quick-march" 
and,  crossing  the  bridge,  were  soon  on  the 
broad  paved  road  which  runs  through  Le 
Touquet  forest. 

It  was  just  dusk,  and  snow  had  fallen  to  the 
[101] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

depth  of  about  two  inches ;  the  most  we  saw  in 
two  winters  during  our  stay  in  that  part  of 
France.  It  was  a  crisp,  cold  evening,  and  the 
swinging  pace  of  our  march  did  much  to  keep 
us  warm. 

From  time  to  time  we  passed  large  summer 
residences  and  artistic  villas  partly  hidden  in 
the  woods,  but  all  the  doors  were  closed,  and 
all  the  windows  were  dark.  Not  a  human  be- 
ing passed  us  on  the  road,  and  the  noise  of  our 
shoes  crunching  through  the  crusted  snow  was 
the  only  sound  which  broke  the  solemn  stillness 
of  the  air. 

Our  men  too  seemed  oppressed  with  the 
weird  solitude  of  the  forest  and  seldom  spoke 
above  a  whisper. 

"Seems  as  though  the  world  were  dead,"  said 
Burnham,  after  we  had  walked  nearly  two 
miles  in  silence. 

"Yes,"  I  replied,  "it  gives  one  a  creepy  feel- 
ing passing  through  this  long  dark  avenue  of 
pines.  The  houses  too  look  as  if  the  inhabitants 
had  fled  and  that  no  one  had  the  courage  to 
return." 

"I  understand  the  BoscJies  were  through 
quite  close  to  here,"  Burnham  remarked,  "in 
[102] 


THE    FIRST    CAN.U)TAXS    IN    FKANCE 

their  first  mad  dash  for  Paris,  and  that  some 
German  soldiers  were  killed  near  the  outskirts 
of  this  wood." 

"By  the  gruesomeness  of  it  I  can  imagine 
they  were  all  killed,"  I  replied. 

By  this  time  we  had  turned  at  right  angles 
to  our  former  path  and  entered  another  long 
avenue  of  trees.  The  white  walls  of  an  isolated 
mansion  stood  out  in  the  distance  against  the 
black-green  of  the  forest  and  the  fading  purple 
of  the  evening  sky.  The  grounds  about  it  were 
enclosed  by  a  high  pointed  iron  fence;  it  looked 
a  veritable  prison. 

After  tramping  another  mile  we  emerged 
into  an  open  space  between  the  trees  and  the 
rolling  sand  dunes  of  the  coast,  and  saw  before 
us  a  large  limestone  building,  three  stories  in 
height  and  almost  surrounded  with  broad, 
glass-enclosed  balconies.  The  tracks  of  a  dis- 
used tramway  ran  to  the  gate,  and  the  rust 
upon  the  rails  spoke  more  forcibly  than  ever 
of  desolation  and  desertion. 

We  passed  through  the  stone  gateway  and 

crossed  the  snow-covered  lawn.     Everything 

was  as  dark  and  dreary  as  the  grave.     Surely 

no  one  was  within !    We  mounted  the  steps  and 

[103] 


THE   FIKST   CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

rang  the  bell.  Its  peal  reverberated  strangely 
through  the  empty  halls.  After  a  few  moments, 
however,  a  light  appeared  and  a  solitary  man 
entered  the  rotunda;  he  turned  the  electric 
switch,  flooding  the  room  with  a  bright  light. 
He  came  to  the  door,  unlocked  it,  and  rolled 
it  back  slowly  upon  its  wheels. 

"Gut  evening,  zhentlemen,"  he  said  in  Eng- 
lish, but  with  a  peculiar  Franco-German  ac- 
cent difficult  to  diagnose.  "It  iss  fery  kolt,  iss 
it  not?" 

We  acknowledged  the  fact. 

"You  are  vrom  the  Canadian  Hospital?"  he 
queried. 

"You  were  evidently  expecting  us,"  I  re- 
plied. "We  are  the  advance  party  from  that 
hospital." 

He  pushed  the  door  wide  for  us  to  enter. 
We  didn't  debate  the  propriety  of  accepting 
the  hospitality  of  a  German,  but  marched  in 
at  once. 

"Your  dinner  vill  be  retty  in  a  leedle  vhile. 
I  vill  haf  Alvred  ligh'd  you  the  grate,  und  you 
soon  fery  comfortable  vill  be." 

"Show  me  to  the  kitchen  first,"  I  asked  him, 
"and  let  me  see  what  arrangements  you  have 
[104] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

for  supper  for  the  men.  When  they  are  made 
comfortable  it  will  be  plenty  of  time  for  our 
dinner." 

lie  piloted  us  into  a  large  room  with  red  tile 
floor.  There  was  good  accommodation  for  the 
men,  and  the  kitchen  ranges  were  close  by. 
They  had  their  cooks  and  rations  with  them, 
and  as  soon  as  we  had  chosen  their  sleeping 
quarters  and  had  seen  that  everything  was  sat- 
isfactory we  returned  for  our  own  dinner. 

In  a  commodious  room,  just  off  the  rotunda, 
a  roaring  coal  fire  was  blazing  on  the  hearth. 
Big  easy-chairs  had  been  conveniently  placed 
for  us,  and  Burnham  and  I  fell  into  them  and 
stretched  our  tired  feet  toward  tlie  fender  upon 
the  rich  red  Turkish  rug.  The  table  was  spread 
close  by,  and  we  noticed  the  fine  linen,  the 
sparkling  cut  glass,  crested  silver  and 
Limofje  china.  The  scent  of  delicious 
French  cooking  was  wafted  to  us  past  the 
heavy  silken  hangings  of  the  door.  Presently 
our  German  host  appeared  once  more: 

"Vat  vine  vill  the  zhentlemen  have  mit  zehr 
dinner?"  he  enquired  politely. 

Burnham  threw  himself  back  into  his  seat 
[105] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 


and  laughed  aloud.  "Holy  smoke!"  he 
chuckled,  "and  we  are  at  the  war!" 

"What  wines  have  you?"  I  enquired  tenta- 
tively. 

"Anyzing  you  wish  to  name,  zir,"  he  re- 
sponded with  a  certain  show  of  pride. 

I  thought  I  would  put  him  to  the  test. 
"Bring  us  a  hottle  of  'Ayala,'  '04  vintage,"  I 
commanded. 

'Mit  pleasure,  zir."  And  he  bowed  and  re- 
tired to  get  it. 

Burnham  slapped  his  knee  and  burst  out: 
"Am  I  awake  or  dreaming?  We  walk  four 
miles  through  a  stark  forest  on  a  winter  night, 
enter  a  deserted  hostel,  are  received  by  a  Ger- 
man spy  and  feted  like  the  Lord  Mayor.  I  ex- 
pect to  fall  out  of  the  balloon  any  minute  and 
hit  the  earth  with  a  nasty  bump !" 

"I'm  a  little  dazed  myself,"  I  admitted,  "but 
it's  all  a  part  of  the  soldier-game.  Some  other 
day  we'll  find  the  cards  reversed,  and  have  to 
play  it  just  the  same." 

Our  host,  however,  was  not  a  German,  al- 
though that  was  his  native  tongue.  He  came 
from  that  little-known  country  of  Luxem- 
bourg, which,  sandwiched  in  between  France 
[106] 


THE    ITliST    CAN.U)1ANS    IN    FRANCE 

and  her  Teutonic  enemy,  has  still  maintained 
a  weak  and  unavailing  neutrality.  Being  too 
small  and  unprotected  to  resist,  the  German 
army  marched  unmolested  across  it  in  the  early 
days  of  war. 

"Alvred,"  who  was  a  French-Swiss,  and 
spoke  more  languages  than  I  can  well  remem- 
her,  waited  upon  us  at  table.  We  were  just 
finishing  an  excellent  five-course  dinner  with 
a  tiny  glass  of  coin-treau,  when  the  sound  of 
a  motor-car  stopping  at  the  door  aroused  us 
from  our  dream  of  heavenly  isolation. 

As  we  stepped  into  the  hall,  the  door  opened, 
and  in  walked  the  colonel,  the  senior  major 
and  the  quartermaster,  who  had  followed  us 
from  Boulogne  by  road. 

"Well,  how  do  you  like  our  new  hospital?" 
the  colonel  demanded  with  a  satisfied  smile. 

"We  love  it,"  Burnham  exclaimed.  "It  is 
weird,  romantic  and  altogether  comme  il 
fautr 

I  suggested  that  a  liqueur  and  a  cigar  might 
not  be  unacceptable  after  their  long  drive.  The 
colonel  smiled  appreciativel}-  as  he  replied: 

"We  are  a  bit  chilly  after  our  journey;  I 
think  a  little  drink  will  do  us  good.  What  do 
[107] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

you  say,  Major  Baldwin?"  This  question  was 
addressed  to  the  senior  major,  who,  with  the 
others,  had  now  entered  our  dining  room. 

The  artistic  surroundings  drove  the  major 
into  poetry  at  once.    He  exclaimed: 

"  'Ah!  my  beloved,  fill  the  cup  that  clears 
To-day  of  past  regrets  and  future  fears/  " 

"Splendid!"  cried  Burnham  enthusiastically. 
"Now,  let's  have  'Gunga  Din' — you  do  it  so 
well!  How  does  it  go?  'You're  a  better  drink 
than  I  am,  Gordon  Gin!'  " 

"No,  no!"  said  the  major  deprecatingly. 
"You  mustn't  abuse  Kipling — it's  too  early  in 
the  evening." 

Whether  the  major  intended  abusing  that 
famous  author  at  a  later  hour,  or  merely  re- 
citing from  him,  we  didn't  enquire.  We  talked 
until  late,  formulating  our  plans  for  the  mor- 
row and  for  many  days  to  come.  We  made  a 
tour  of  inspection  about  the  building.  The 
colonel  unfolded  his  plans  as  we  walked  along 
the  halls. 

"This  suite,"  he  said,  as  we  came  to  the  end 
of  the  hall,  "will  make  a  splendid  pair  of 
[108] 


THE    ITKST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

operating  rooms,  an  anaesthetic  and  a  sterilis- 
ing room.  The  fifth  will  do  for  a  dressing 
room  for  the  surgeons,  and  in  the  sixth  Reggy 
"vvill  have  full  sway— that  will  be  his  eye  and 
ear  reformatory.  On  the  left  we'll  install  our 
X-ray  plant,  so  that  all  surgical  work  may  be 
done  in  this  one  wing." 

"What  about  the  hotel  furnishings,"  I  en- 
quired, "are  they  to  remain  in  places?" 

"Everything  must  go,  except  what  is  abso- 
lutely necessary  to  the  comfort  or  care  of 
patients,"  he  replied.  "It  seems  a  pity,  but  we 
are  here  not  only  to  cure  patients,  but  to  2)ro- 
tect  the  Goverimient  from  needless  expense. 
In  the  morning  set  the  men  to  work  dis- 
mantling tlie  entire  building." 

We  walked  along  to  the  opposite  end  of  the 
hall. 

"Here's  a  fine  room,"  exclaimed  INIajor 
Baldwin,  as  he  peeped  into  the  dainty  boudoir 
which  I  had  chosen  as  a  bedroom.  "Who 
sleeps  in  this  luxurious  state?" 

"I  do — for  to-night,"  I  replied. 

"I  want  that  room  for  myself,"  he  declared. 
"It  looks  like  the  best  in  the  place." 

How  is  it  we  always  want  that  whicli  the 
[  109  ] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FKANCE 

other  fellow  has  ?  Its  value  seems  enhanced  by- 
its  inaccessibility. 

"It  shall  be  yours  to-morrow  night,"  I  re- 
plied to  this  covetous  request.  It  was  no  dep- 
rivation to  give  it  up  as  there  were  fifty  other 
rooms,  which  the  Major  had  not  seen,  more 
richly  decorated  and  more  attractive  than  mine. 
This  little  room  was  cosy  and  prettily  fur- 
nished in  bird's-eye  maple.  It  boasted  an 
Axminster  rug,  a  brass  bed,  and  the  glow  from 
the  open  fire  lent  it  a  charm  which  had  cap- 
tivated Major  Baldwin's  eye. 

There  were  other  suites  of  rooms,  with 
private  baths  attached,  and  hot  and  cold  run- 
ning water.  The  floors  were  covered  with 
costly  Persian  rugs,  and  the  furniture  was  of 
hand-carved  olive  wood  or  mahogany.  Private 
balconies  overlooked  the  golf  course  and  the 
forest.  Every  detail  bespoke  wealth  and 
luxury  combined  with  the  most  modern  con- 
trivances for  comfort. 

The  colonel  was  amused  at  us:  "Pick  out 
whatever  rooms  you  like,"  he  said,  "and  enjoy 
yourselves  while  you  may,  for  in  three  days' 
time  no  one  but  patients  will  live  in  this  build- 
ing. The  men  will  sleep  in  the  Golf-club 
[110] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

house,  the  nurses  in  one  of  these  deserted 
villas,  and  we  shall  have  another  villa  for  our- 
selves." 

^Ve  discovered  that  our  hospital  building 
was  owned  by  an  English  company;  hence  the 
great  number  of  bathrooms — thirty-four  in  all. 
The  halls  and  glass  enclosed  balconies  were 
steam  heated  throughout,  and  each  room  had 
its  old-fashioned  open  fireplace  to  combat  the 
chill  of  winter  days. 

At  midnight  the  colonel  and  his  party  left 
us  and  commenced  their  return  journey  to 
Boulogne.  Burnham  and  I  climbed  the  stairs 
to  my  bedroom,  our  footsteps  echoing  loudly 
through  the  untenanted  halls.  We  sat  and 
chatted  for  an  hour  before  the  fire.  I  was  get- 
ting very  sleepy — we  had  dined  well — and  as  I 
looked  at  Burnham  his  form  seemed  to  dwindle 
to  smaller  and  smaller  proportions  until  he 
looked  like  a  pigmy  from  Lilliput.  I  amused 
myself  awhile  watching  this  strange  phe- 
nomenon. By  and  by  his  diminutive  size  pro- 
\()ked  me  to  remark: 

"Do  you  know,  Burnham,  although  an  hour 
ago  when  you  entered  the  room,  I  mistook  you 
for  a  full-grown  man,  I  can  now  see  that  in 

[111] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

reality  you  are  only  about  ten  inches  tall — yet 
your  every  feature  is  perfect." 

"Much  obliged  for  the  compliment  implied 
in  your  last  clause,"  he  laughed;  "you  cor- 
roborate suspicions  which  I  have  long  enter- 
tained that  I'm  a  handsome  dog  whose  beauty 
has  remained  unappreciated.  It's  a  strange 
coincidence,  but  I  am  labouring  under  the  op- 
posite delusion,  and  although  an  hour  ago  you 
waddled  into  the  room — just  an  ordinary  fat 
man;  now  I  view  you  as  a  Colossus." 

I  rather  approved  his  regarding  me  as  a 
Colossus,  but  saw  that  I  must  at  once  frown 
upon  that  "waddling"  idea.  It's  an  impres- 
sion I  can't  afford  to  let  go  abroad. 

"Come,  let's  to  bed,"  I  cried,  "and  sleep 
'will  knit  your  ravelled  sleeve  of  care' — I  really 
think  your  wide-awake  impressions  are  the 
worst!" 

We  arose  at  six  and  under  our  direction  the 
men  commenced  the  work  of  disrobing  the 
hotel.  The  stern  necessities  of  war  permit  no 
sentiment.  Everything  had  to  go;  The  beau- 
tiful paintings,  the  silken  hangings,  the 
Oriental  rugs,  the  artistic  statuary,  were  all 
rapidly  removed  and  packed  away  for  safety. 
[112] 


THE    ITKST    CANxU)IAXS    IN    FKANCE 

The  card  and  dining  rooms  and  lounges  were 
stripped  of  their  carpets,  and  before  night  its 
former  guests  would  scarce  have  recognised  the 
place.  Sanitation  is  the  first  and  paramount 
law  of  a  ^Military  Hospital;  carpets  and  un- 
necessary furniture  are  a  source  of  danger,  for 
such  a  variety  of  diseases  follow  the  troops  that 
special  care  must  be  given  to  every  possibility 
for  infection  and  its  prevention. 

By  five  that  evening  the  colonel,  the  matron 
and  the  nursing  sisters  arrived,  and  a  few 
hours  later  came  the  balance  of  our  officers 
and  men.  ^Nlotor  lorries  and  ambulances  toiled 
through  the  gates,  laden  with  our  equipment. 
Hundreds  of  boxes,  crates  of  iron  beds,  bales 
of  mattresses  and  blankets,  folding  bedside 
tables,  bags  of  tents  and  poles,  were  brought  to 
the  door  in  an  apparently  endless  stream.  As 
fast  as  the  lorries  arrived  the  men  unloaded 
them,  piling  boxes  and  bales  under  the  bal- 
conies for  protection. 

Huxford  and  the  team  did  their  share  too, 
bringing  up  loads  of  food  from  the  train  for 
tlie  men  and  for  prosj^ective  patients. 

The  senior  major  was  pale  and  tired;  he 
had  been  up  since  dawn  and  had  worked  hard. 
[113] 


THE   riKST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

Nothing  had  been  forgotten,  and  the  transport 
of  men  and  accoutrement  had  been  accom- 
pHshed  systematically  and  well.  He  was  a 
good  soldier,  true  to  his  duty,  stern  and  un- 
flinching, and  he  never  asked  others  to  work 
without  being  willing  to  do  more  than  his  own 
share.  Tired  as  he  was,  he  would  neither  rest 
nor  eat  until  the  last  box  was  unloaded,  and 
the  last  lorrie  had  left  the  grounds — and  the 
men  shared  his  deprivation. 

It  was  almost  nine  p.m.  as  Tim  and  Barker, 
staggering  under  the  weight  of  a  tremendous 
case,  came  across  the  driveway  and  dumped  the 
last  box  to  the  ground.  Tim  sat  breathless  for 
a  moment  upon  it,  then  looked  wearily  up  at 
Barker,  with  his  head  on  one  side  as  was  his 
custom  when  he  soliloquised. 

"Dat's  a  heavy  load  t'get  offen  an  empty 
stummick,"  he  gasped.  "I  can't  lif  annuder 
poun'  until  I  gets  a  slab  o'  roas'  beef  under  me 
belt.  I'm  dat  hungry  I  could  lick  de  sweat  off 
a  bake-shop  window." 

"I  smell  supper  cookin'  now,"  said  Barker. 
"Did  ye  see  th'  ranges?  Some  cookery,  I  kin 
tell  ye — they  kin  roast  a  whole  cow  at  one 
time!" 

[m] 


THE    FIRST    CAN.\DIAXS    IN    FHx^XCE 

"An'  I  kin  eat  dat  same  cow  jus'  as  fas'  as 
dey  kin  roast  it,"  Tim  declared.  "I'm  dat 
weak  from  starvation  dat  a  drink  iiv  holy  water 
'ud  make  me  drunk!" 

About  nine-thirty  p.m.  the  men  fell  upon 
their  supper  like  a  pack  of  hungry  wolves. 

"Gee! — Don't  food  taste  good — when  ye're 
hungry,"  drawled  Wilson,  with  his  mouth  full. 

"Dat's  right,"  Tim  replied.  "Glad  t'  see  ye're 
perkin'  up  an'  takin'  a  little  notice  agin.  I 
fought  youse  and  Huxford  wuz  about  all  in." 

"Where'd  you  get  the  onion?"  Wilson 
queried. 

"I  foun'  dis  in  d'  hotel  garbage,"  said  Tim, 
as  he  took  a  large  bite  out  of  a  Spanish  speci- 
men, an'  I  wuz  jus'  t'inkin'  wat  a  difF'rence 
there  is  'tween  an  onion  and  a  cake.  Hav  ye 
noticed  it  yerself  ?" 

"I  hevn't  eat  cake  in  so  long  I  don't  s'pose 
I  could  tell  'em  apart  now,"  Wilson  replied. 

"Well,  dey  say  ye  can't  eat  yer  cake  an'  hev 
it  too;  but  wit  an  onion  it's  different — wen  ye 
eat  it,  it's  like  castin'  yer  bread  upon  de 
troubled  waters — it'll  always  come  back  t'  ye." 

Cameron  looked  up  as  if  he  were  about  to 
correct  this  scriptural  misquotation.  It  seemed 
[llo] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

to  harass  his  rehgious  sense.  He  opened  his 
mouth  to  speak,  but  it  was  too  full  for  utter- 
ance, and  he  had  to  content  himself  with  a  re- 
proachful look  at  Tim. 

Ten  o'clock  found  everybody  sleepy  and  ex- 
hausted. The  boys  didn't  trouble  to  go  to  their 
quarters,  but,  crawling  into  any  available 
corner,  threw  themselves  down  upon  bundles 
or  empty  beds,  and  soon  were  fast  asleep.  The 
sergeant-major  was  too  tired  to  care,  and  for 
one  night  at  least  discipline  was  happily  for- 
gotten. 

In  the  morning  early  we  were  at  it  again, 
tooth  and  nail.  If  some  of  our  friends  at  home, 
who  think  the  trained  nurse  is  too  proud  to 
work,  could  have  only  seen  those  splendid  girls 
on  their  first  day  in  the  new  hospital,  they 
would  still  be  lost  in  wonder.  They  washed 
woodwork  and  windows,  helped  to  put  up  un- 
ruly beds,  swept  the  floors  and  did  a  hundred 
other  menial  labours — menial  only  because  in 
our  artificial  life  we  call  them  so — cheerfully 
and  speedily. 

If  some  day,  by  chance,  one  of  our  nursing 
sisters  reads  these  lines,  and  blushes  at  the 
recollection  of  her  work  that  day,  let  her  re- 
[116] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

member  that  by  that  very  labour,  in  our  eyes, 
she  was  glorified.  We  shall  always  remember 
with  pride  those  brave  girls  who  were  not 
afraid,  when  duty  called,  to  "stoop  and  con- 
quer." 

The  following  evening  I  was  despatched  to 
Boulogne  to  interview  the  A.D.M.S.  regard- 
ing our  hospital.  I  was  met  at  the  office  door 
by  the  D.A.D.JM.S.,  who  was  one  of  that  breed 
of  cock-sure  officer — now  merci  a  Dieu  al- 
most extinct. 

"Hello,"  he  cried  brusquely.  "Is  your  hos- 
pital ready  for  patients?" 

"We  should  prefer  another  day  or  two  of 
preparation,  sir,"  I  replied. 

"How  long  have  you  been  out  there  now?" 
he  demanded. 

"Two  days,  sir." 

"What!  At  the  end  of  two  days  you  mean 
to  tell  me  you're  not  ready!  You're  very 
slow." 

It  was  the  first  time  we  had  been  accused  of 
sluggishness.  It  was  undeserved,  and  I  re- 
sented it  accordingly.  I  replied — not  too 
politely,  I  fear: 

"You  will  please  remember  we  had  to  dis- 
[117] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

mantle  and  remove  the  carpets  and  furniture 
of  a  large  hotel,  take  stock  of  the  fixtures  and 
house-clean  the  building  before  commencing 
the  setting  up  of  our  hospital  equipment.  We 
are  ready  for  two  hundred  patients  now — but 
we  prefer  another  day  or  two  to  make  every- 
thing complete." 

"I'll  send  you  two  hundred  patients  to- 
night," he  cried.    "Be  prepared  for  them." 

The  A.D.M.S.,  a  typical  English  gentleman 
of  the  old  school,  interfered.  He  called  his 
deputy  aside  and  said  to  him : 

"You  mustn't  rush  patients  into  a  new  hos- 
pital in  this  manner.  Give  them  a  few  days' 
grace."  He  turned  to  me  and  continued:  "You 
will  receive  a  trainload  of  patients  three  days 
from  now.  That  will  give  you  plenty  of  time. 
Kindly  inform  your  commanding  officer  to 
this  effect." 

Some  men  brush  one's  fur  the  wrong  way, 
and  others  smooth  it  back  again.  I  had  been 
so  rumpled  by  the  D.A.D.M.S.  that  every 
bristle  of  my  not  too  gentle  nature  was  stand- 
ing on  end — it  was  not  only  what  he  said,  but 
the  manner  of  the  saying;  yet  the  A.D.M.S., 
with  one  gentle,  kindly  stroke  of  common  sense, 
['ll8] 


THE    FIRST    CAN.y)IAXS    IN    FRANCE 

had  soothed  and  made  me  human  once  again. 
I  felt  my  wrath  slipping  quietly  away,  and  I 
basked  for  a  moment  in  the  sunshine  of  a  genial 
personality.  I  gratefully  murmured: 
"Thank  you,  sir.  I  shall  tell  him." 
"I  trust  your  hospital  will  soon  prove  itself 
a  credit  to  your  staff  and  to  Canada.  Good 
night,  and  good  luck,"  he  said,  as  he  shook  me 
warmly  by  the  hand. 

It  Mas  midnight  of  the  third  day  after  this 
interview.  The  orderly  on  duty  in  the  hall  was 
suddenly  startled  by  the  sharp  ring  of  the  tele- 
phone bell.  He  sprang  to  his  feet  and  put  the 
strange  French  receiver  to  his  ear. 

"Yes,  this  is  the  Canadian  Hospital,"  he 
answered;  and  a  distant  voice  gave  this  mes- 
sage: 

"A  train-load  of  three  hundred  wounded  will 
arrive  at  the  station  at  two  a.m.  Be  ready  for 
them!" 


[119] 


CHAPTER  VIII 

At  last  the  time  for  action  had  come.  Three 
hundred  wounded  would  arrive  in  two  hours; 
one-fifth  the  number  would  throw  the  average 
city  hospital  into  confusion.  Nurses  and  of- 
ficers hurried  from  their  villas  to  the  hospital. 
The  cooks  and  orderlies  were  already  on  duty, 
and  the  hospital  presented  a  scene  of  bustling 
but  systematic  activity. 

Our  ten  wards,  each  named  after  a  province 
of  our  beloved  Dominion,  were  soon  ready  for 
the  reception  of  patients,  and  the  deft  hands 
of  the  nursing  sisters  added  the  final  touch  of 
extra  preparation. 

The  colonel's  motor  car  throbbed  in  waiting 
at  the  door,  and  ambulance  after  ambulance, 
with  its  quota  of  stretcher-bearers,  whirled 
away  into  the  darkness  of  the  forest  on  the 
road  to  the  station.  It  was  a  clear,  cold  night. 
The  ground  was  hardened  by  the  frost,  and  the 
pale  quarter-moon  cast  a  faint  chill  light  over 
the  trees. 

[120] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 


Reggy  and  I  clambered  into  the  colonel's 
car  as  it  started,  and  in  a  moment  we  were 
moving  swiftly  through  the  gaunt,  trembling 
shadows  of  the  wood.  As  we  approached  the 
turning  of  the  road  we  could  see  in  the  distance 
the  flashing  headlights  of  other  motors  from 
the  English  hospital,  as  they  too  sped  toward 
the  train. 

When  we  reached  the  station  a  constant 
stream  of  vehicles  was  pouring  through  the 
gates,  and  as  fast  as  each  car  or  ambulance 
arrived,  it  was  backed  into  the  waiting  line. 
Every  few  yards  carbide  jets  spluttered  in  the 
wind,  adding  their  fitful  glare  to  the  strange- 
ness of  the  scene. 

After  about  an  hour's  wait  the  shrill  whistle 
of  the  incoming  French  train  warned  us  that 
our  vigil  was  nearly  over.  In  a  few  minutes 
the  coaches,  each  with  its  big  red  cross,  came 
clanking  slowly  into  the  station  yard.  Car 
after  car  passed  by:  one,  two,  three, — ten, — 
twenty;  it  was  a  tremendous  train.  At  last  it 
stopped,  the  doors  opened  and  we  had  our  first 
glimpse  of  the  brave  boys  who  had  held  the 
line. 

Dozens  of  Scots  and  English  battalions  were 
[121] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

represented,  but  there  were  no  Canadians  save 
ourselves  as  yet  in  France.  Some  of  the  boys 
could  stand  or  walk,  and  they  clambered  slowly 
and  painfully  down  the  steep  steps  and  stood 
in  little  wondering  groups.  God  knows  they 
looked  tired,  and  their  clothes  were  still  cov- 
ered with  the  dried  mud  from  the  trenches ;  for 
during  a  battle  speed  and  the  necessities  of  the 
moment  are  the  important  things — the  refine- 
ments of  civilisation  must  await  time  and  op- 
portunity. Many  were  smoking  cigarettes; 
some  had  bandages  about  their  head  or  hands 
or  feet ;  some  had  their  arms  in  slings ;  but  from 
none  was  there  the  slightest  groan  or  sound  of 
complaint.  They  waited  with  soldierly  but 
pathetic  patience  until  we  were  ready  to  take 
care  of  them. 

One  tall  young  man  who  was  standing  apart 
from  the  others  and  whose  face  was  unusually 
pale,  approached  me  and  saluted.  His  right 
hand  was  thrust  into  the  bosom  of  his  coat, 
with  his  left  he  nervously  drew  a  cigarette 
from  his  pocket. 

"Would  you  mind  helping  me  light  this, 
sir?"  he  asked  respectfully.     "I  can't  protect 
the  match  from  the  wind." 
[122] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FEANCE 


As  I  assisted  hini  I  enquired:  "Have  you 
had  your  right  hand  wounded  ?  I  see  you  keep 
it  in  your  coat." 

"It's  not  exactly  that,  sir,"  he  replied,  with 
a  faint  smile.  "I  have  no  right  hand — had  it 
blown  off  this  morning."  He  drew  the  band- 
aged stump  from  his  breast  as  he  spoke  and 
held  it  up  for  inspection. 

"But  you  must  be  suffering  frightfully!"  I 
exclaimed  in  pity,  surprised  at  his  coolness. 

"It  does  give  me  'Gip'  now  and  again.  I 
can  bear  it  better  when  I  smoke,"  and  he  pulled 
tremulously  at  his  cigarette. 

I  helped  the  brave  fellow  into  one  of  the 
waiting  motors  and  turned  to  see  what  I  could 
do  for  the  others.  There  were  dozens  with 
bandaged  feet  who  limped  slowly  toward  the 
ambulances. 

"What  has  happened  to  you  chaps?"  I  en- 
quired, as  I  came  to  a  group  of  six,  all  ap- 
parently suffering  from  the  same  condition, 
and  who  could  scarcely  walk. 

"Trench  feet,  sir,"  they  answered  readily. 

At  the  time  this  was  a  new  disease  to  me, 
but  we  soon  saw  all  too  much  of  it.  It  cor- 
responds quite  closely  to  what  in  Canada  is 
[123] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

known  as  "chilblain,"  but  is  much  more  pain- 
ful, and  is  in  some  ways  equivalent  to  "frost- 
bite." It  is  caused  by  prolonged  immersion  in 
ice-cold  water  or  liquid  mud.  In  those  days 
too,  the  trenches  were  not  as  well  built  as  they 
are  to-day,  or  the  ground  was  lower  and  more 
boggy.  Men  were  subjected  to  great  priva- 
tions, and  suffered  untold  hardships.  "Trench 
foot"  has  now  almost  entirely  disappeared,  and 
conditions  in  the  trenches  are  altogether  better. 

"Were  you  standing  long  in  the  water?"  I 
asked  them. 

"We've  been  in  it  night  and  day  since  Sun- 
day," they  replied — and  this  was  Friday! 

"Was  the  water  deep?"  I  asked. 

"The  mud  was  up  to  the  waist,"  one  an- 
swered; "an'  poor  Bill  Goggins  stepped  in  a 
'ole  in  the  trench  an'  were  drowned  afore  we 
could  get  to  'im." 

Another  spoke  up :  "A  lad  from  my  platoon 
got  into  a  part  of  the  trench  that  were  like  a 
quicksand,  on'y  'e  went  down  so  fast — like  as 
if  there  was  a  suction  from  below.  We  seen 
'im  goin',  an'  'e  called  fer  'elp,  but  w'en  we 
got  to  'im  'e  were  down  to  'is  chin,  an'  we 
couldn't  pull  'im  back." 

[  124  ] 


THE    FIRST    CAN^U)IANS    IN    FRANCE 

"Good  heavens!"  I  exclaimed  in  horror. 
"Was  he  drowned  too?" 

"  'E  were  that,  sir,"  he  replied.  "It  were 
jolly  'ard  to  see  'im  go,  an'  us  right  there!" 
and  there  were  tears  in  the  good  fellow's  eyes 
as  he  spoke. 

"Climb  into  the  motor,  boys,"  I  said.  "We'll 
try  to  make  up  a  little  for  the  hell  you've  all 
been  through." 

There  were  others  who  had  been  severely 
wounded ;  some  with  broken  arms  or  legs ;  some 
sliot  through  the  head  or  chest.  It  was  wonder- 
ful to  see  the  gentleness  and  kindness  of  our 
own  rough  lads  as  they  lifted  them  tenderly 
from  bed  to  stretcher,  and  carried  them  from 
the  train  to  the  waiting  ambulances. 

I  stepped  inside  the  train  for  a  moment.  It 
was  a  marvel  of  a  hospital  on  wheels.  It  had 
comfortable  spring  beds  and  mattresses,  and 
soft  woollen  blankets.  There  were  kitchens,  a 
dispensary,  an  emergency  operating  room  and 
even  bathrooms.  A  staff  of  medical  officers, 
nurses  and  trained  orderlies  did  all  which 
human  power  can  do  to  make  the  men  com- 
fortable during  a  trying  journey.  Every  man 
had  had  his  supper,  and  his  wounds  had  been 
[125] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 


dressed  en  route  as  scientifically  and  care- 
fully as  if  he  had  been  in  a  "Base  Hospital." 

The  ambulances  rolled  slowly  away  from  the 
train  with  their  precious  loads,  the  drivers 
cautiously  picking  their  way  along  the  smooth- 
est parts  of  the  road ;  for  to  the.  man  with  a 
broken  leg  or  arm  the  slightest  jolt  causes 
pain. 

We  saw  the  boys  again  at  the  entrance  to  the 
hospital,  lying  in  rows  on  stretchers,  or  stand- 
ing patiently  in  line,  waiting  until  their  names 
and  numbers  were  duly  recorded.  Each  one, 
as  this  procedure  was  completed,  was  given  a 
little  card  on  wfiich  the  name  of  his  ward  and 
the  number  of  his  bed  was  written.  He  was 
then  conducted  or  carried  to  his  allotted  place. 

How  tired  they  looked  as  they  sat  wearily 
upon  the  edge  of  their  beds,  waiting  for  the 
orderlies  to  come  and  assist  them  to  undress! 
But  even  here  they  were  able  to  smile  and  crack 
their  little  jokes  from  bed  to  bed. 

As  soon  as  they  were  undressed,  they  were 
given  a  refreshing  bath,  in  which  they  revelled 
after  their  weeks  of  dirty  work  and  mud.  After 
the  bath  came  clean,  warm  pyjamas,  a  cup  of 
hot  cocoa  or  soup,  a  sHce  of  bread  and  butter, 
[126] 


THE    FIRST    CANxVDIANS    IN    FRANCE 

and   last,   but  to  the   soldier   never  least,    a 
cigarette. 

To  him  the  cigarette  is  the  panacea  for  all 
ills.  I  have  seen  men  die  with  a  cigarette  be- 
tween their  lips — the  last  favour  they  had  re- 
quested on  earth.  If  the  soldier  is  in  pain,  he 
smokes  for  comfort ;  if  he  is  restless  he  smokes 
for  solace;  when  he  receives  good  news,  he 
smokes  for  joy;  if  the  news  is  bad,  he  smokes 
for  consolation ;  if  he  is  well — he  smokes ;  when 
he  is  ill — he  smokes.  But  good  news  or  bad, 
sick  or  well,  he  always  smokes. 

As  I  entered  the  ward  a  Highlander,  not 
yet  undressed,  was  sitting  upon  the  side  of  his 
bed  puffing  contentedly  at  his  cigarette.  His 
tunic  was  still  spattered  with  dried  blood. 

"Are  you  badly  wounded?"  I  asked  him. 

"Not  ven-a  badly,  sii',"  he  returned,  as  he 
stood  at  attention. 

"But  you  have  a  lot  of  blood  on  your  tunic," 
I  said,  pointing  to  his  right  side  and  hip. 

"It's  not  a'  mine,  sir,"  he  replied  as  he 
grinned  from  ear  to  ear — "it's  a  souvenir  from 
a  Bosche,  but  he  did  make  a  sma'  hole  in  ma 
thigh  wi'  his  bayonet." 

"And  what  happened  to  him?" 
[127] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

He  laughed  outright  this  time.  "He's  got 
ma  bayonet  an'  ma  rifle  too,"  he  cried.  "Oh, 
man,  but  it  was  a  gran'  ficht!" 

"Is  he  dead?"  I  asked. 

"Dead?"  he  exclaimed.  "I  hae  his  top-hat 
wi'  me  noo;"  and  he  held  up  a  Prussian  helmet 
to  our  admiring  gaze. 

I  congratulated  him  and  passed  on;  but  I 
had  little  time  just  then  for  chatting.  All  the 
wounds  had  to  be  unbandaged,  washed  and 
freshly  dressed,  and  although  we  worked  rapid- 
ly, the  nurses  undoing  the  bandages  and  at- 
tending to  the  minor  cases,  while  I  did  the 
more  serious  ones  myself,  it  was  broad  daylight 
before  we  had  finished.  The  morning  sun, 
stealing  gently  over  the  trees,  found  patients 
and  doctors  alike  ready  for  a  few  hours'  sleep. 

A  similar  scene  had  been  enacted  in  every 
other  ward.  It  was  nearly  six  a.m.  as  the  other 
officers  and  myself,  with  the  exception  of  the 
unfortunate  orderly  officer,  started  down  the 
road  toward  the  villa.  Our  billet  was  about  a 
quarter-mile  away,  but  our  "mess"  was  in  the 
hospital  building.  I  crawled  into  bed  at  last, 
very,  very  weary,  and  in  a  few  moments  was 
lost  to  the  world. 

[128] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

It  was  Tim  who  finally  roused  me  from 
this  heavy  sleep.  He  was  standing  at  the  foot 
of  my  bed  with  his  head  on  one  side  in  his  cus- 
tomary bird-like  attitude.  His  stiff  black  fore- 
lock hung  straight  over  his  brow.  I  was  just 
conscious  enough  to  hear  him  saying : 

"Wake  up,  maje!" 

Before  strangers,  or  before  brother  officers, 
Tim  was  always  respectful  to  us.  He  was  a 
trained  soldier,  and,  when  occasion  demanded, 
could  be,  and  was,  very  regimental.  But  in 
the  privacy  of  our  home  (of  which  he  was  in 
charge)  Tim  treated  us  like  children  whose 
pranks  might  be  tolerated  but  must  not  be  en- 
couraged. 

"What's  the  trouble,  Tim?"  I  enquired 
sleepily. 

"It's  time  to  git  up,"  he  complained.  "D'ye 
s'pose  ye're  goin'  t'  sleep  all  day,  jes'  because 
ye  loss  ye're  beauty  sleep  las'  night?  Dis  is 
war — dis  is!" 

"What's  the  hour?"  I  asked. 

"It's  ten  o'clock,"  he  rephed,  "an'  dat  Cap' 

Reggy's  in  de  nex'  room — chloroformed  agin; 

wit  his  knees  drawed  up  an'  his  mout'  open 

ventilatin'  his  brain.    Dey  ain't  a  Pullman  in 

[129] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

de  whole  worl'  dat's  as  good  a  sleeper  as  dat 
gent." 

By  this  time  I  was  fully  awake,  as  Tim  in- 
tended I  should  be.  I  turned  over  on  my  side 
and  addressed  him: 

"Run  downstairs  now,  Tim,  and  make  me  a 
good  hot  cup  of  coffee,  and  a  slice  of  toast  with 
fried  mushrooms  on  top." 

Tim  stared  at  me  a  moment  in  open-mouthed 
amazement.  We  weren't  supposed  to  eat  at  the 
villa,  but  Tim  was  a  good  cook  and  those  he 
favoured  with  his  "friendship"  might  coax  a 
cup  of  tea  before  rising. 

"Fried  mushrooms,"  he  repeated,  as  he  went 
toward  the  door,  shaking  his  head  slowly  from 
side  to  side.  "Fried — mush — rooms!  Gees, 
an'  dey  calls  dis  active  service!" 

But  in  spite  of  this  show  of  pessimism,  he  re- 
turned shortly  with  the  breakfast  as  ordered. 

When  we  reached  the  hospital  that  morning 
everything  was  as  neat  and  clean  as  though 
nothing  had  happened  the  night  before.  No 
adequate  description  can  be  given  of  the  trained 
nurse  at  the  front.  She  is  one  of  the  marvels 
of  the  war.  Patient,  industrious,  cheerful, 
self-sacrificing  and  brave,  she  has  robbed  war 

r.  130  ] 


THE    FIRST    CAN.UHANS    IN    FRANCE 

of  much  of  its  horrors.  She  has  made  the 
wounded  soldier  feel  that  a  sister's  care,  a 
mother's  love  and  a  clever  woman's  skill  follow 
him  wherever  he  goes.  Her  smile  has  cheered 
his  lagging  day;  her  gentle  touch  has  soothed 
his  pain  and  the  warm  sjTnpathy  of  her  kindly 
heart  has  made  the  foreign  land  a  home.  Un- 
der stress  of  work  and  nervous  strain,  ever  for- 
getful of  self,  always  thoughtful  for  others,  no 
truer  or  nobler  band  of  gentle  women  ever  left 
the  shores  of  Canada. 

The  patients  had  had  a  refreshing  sleep  and 
a  good  breakfast  and  were  now  snugly  tucked 
in  their  clean  sheets  and  warm  blankets,  look- 
ing very  happy  and  contented.  Even  those 
who  were  badly  wounded  had  partly  forgotten 
their  troubles.  Some  had  souvenirs — German 
rifle  bullets  or  bits  of  shell  which  had  been  ex- 
tracted at  the  Clearing  Hospital  farther  up 
the  line,  and  these  they  exhibited  with  great 
pride  to  their  fellow  patients.  The  German 
helmet  was  always  an  object  of  interest.  The 
slanting  cut  in  tlie  glossy  leather  of  one  spoke 
better  than  words  of  a  bayonet  thrust  which 
had  gone  home.  Each  little  bedside  table  had 
a  few  priceless  trinkets,  bought  with  blood,  and 
[  131  ] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

brought  with  great  difficulty  and  care  from  the 
battlefield. 

It  was  our  custom  to  postpone  surgical  op- 
erations, except  urgent  ones  to  save  life,  for 
one  or  two  days,  in  order  to.  give  the  tired 
soldiers  a  chance  to  get  a  much-needed  rest — a 
simple  expedient  whereby  many  lives  were 
saved.  The  patients  were  grateful  for  this  lit- 
tle reprieve,  and  showed  their  gratitude  by  re- 
covering more  rapidly. 

But  sometimes  it  was  necessary  to  operate 
at  once.  That  morning  I  found  a  poor  chap 
who  had  been  shot  through  the  brain  with  a 
rifle  bullet.  The  missile  had  entered  the  temple 
and  emerged  at  the  back  of  the  skull,  fractur- 
ing the  bone  both  at  the  point  of  entry  and  exit. 
His  heavy  breathing  and  stupor  told  us  the 
case  called  for  immediate  relief.  In  the  opera- 
ting room  pieces  of  the  skull  were  removed, 
the  depressed  bone  lifted,  and  in  about  an  hour 
the  patient  was  taken  back  to  his  ward.  We 
had  little  hope  of  his  recovery. 

The  following  day,  when  I  entered  the  hos- 
pital, his  bed  was  empty.  I  thought:  "Poor  fel- 
low! He  has  died  in  the  night  and  no  one  has 
sent  me  word."  I  turned  with  a  feeling  of  dis- 
[132] 


THE    FIRST    CAN.VDIANS    IX    FRANCE 


appointment  to  the  man  in  the  next  bed  and 
asked : 

"What  has  become  of  your  neighbour?" 

"Oh,"  he  replied,  "he's  just  gone  out  to  the 
wash  room.  He'll  be  back  in  a  few  minutes. 
He  stole  out  of  the  ward  while  the  nursing  sis- 
ter was  in  the  other  room." 

While  we  were  talking  he  walked  in,  got 
quietly  into  bed  and  reached  for  a  cigarette. 
I  bade  him  good  morning,  repressing,  as  well 
as  I  could,  my  astonishment. 

"You  are  feeling  better  this  morning?"  I 
remarked,  as  casually  as  if  he  had  had  a  cold 
in  his  head. 

"Oh,  yes,  I'm  very  well  in  myself,  sir,"  he 
replied  with  a  contented  smile,  "but  I  have  a 
little  headache — I'm  thinkin'  the  bandages  are 
a  bit  tight." 

I  loosened  them  and  gave  him  a  warning  not 
to  get  up  again.  He  seemed  disappointed,  but 
promised  not  to  transgress  a  second  time. 

It  is  surprising  and  pleasing  to  know  that 

a  large  percentage  of  men  shot  through  the 

brain  recover.    Seven  out  of  nine  who  entered 

the  hospital  one  day,  some  months  later,  made 

'[133] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

a  good  recovery,  and  when  they  left  were  ap- 
parently mentally  sound. 

A  young  lieutenant  who  arrived  with  one 
train  load  of  wounded,  walked  unassisted  up 
the  steps,  and  smilingly  addressed  the  Regis- 
trar : 

"About  a  week  ago,  a  sly  bullet  popped  over 
the  trench  and  caught  me  in  the  temple.  For- 
tunately it  passed  out  through  the  opposite 
side.  They  took  me  down  to  the  Field  Ambu- 
lance, and,  as  the  surgeon  wasn't  very  busy  that 
morning,  he  said  he'd  like  to  take  a  look  inside 
and  see  the  works."  He  laughed  aloud  at  this 
gruesome  witticism  and  continued:  "So  he  gave 
me  a  whiff  of  ether,  opened  the  skull  and,  just 
as  I  expected,  found  'nobody  home.'  He  closed 
the  door,  and  here  I  am,  as  fit  as  a  fiddle.  What 
a  lucky  devil  I  am  to  have  no  brains !" 

A  number  of  wounded  officers  had  arrived 
with  the  men,  and  many  of  our  private  rooms 
were  filled.  We  had  retained  the  brass  beds,  a 
few  practical  chairs  and  small  rugs  for  these 
rooms,  and  with  a  good  fire  in  the  grate  they 
looked  particularly  cosy  and  attractive. 

The  nurses,  too,  took  special  pride  in  sup- 
plementing the  meals  of  the  patients,  both  of- 
[134] 


THE    FIRST    CAN.VDIAXS    IX    FRANCE 

ficers  and  men,  with  delicacies  of  their  own. 
To  the  hot  roast  chicken  was  added  creamed 
asparagus  or  French  peas,  followed  by  appetis- 
ing salads  of  fresh  green  vegetables — which 
may  be  had  in  France  the  year  round.  A  bot- 
tle of  ale  or  wine  and  hot-house  grapes  or 
Spanish  canteloupe  helped  to  make  life  pleas- 
ant and  liastened  tliem  along  the  road  to  health. 
Oh,  you  may  well  believe  that  nothing  was 
omitted  which  made  for  their  comfort  or  well- 
being.  We  felt,  and  justly  so,  tliat  for  the  men 
who  'iield  the  line"  there  was  nothing  in  this 
wide  world  half  good  enougli.  As  the  inspect- 
ing general  remarked  to  the  colonel  a  few 
days  later: 

"Give  the  boys  the  best  the  land  affords — if 
they  want  ^Malaga  grapes,  get  them.  If  they 
want  beer  or  wine,  let  them  have  it.  Spare  no 
expense  that  will  make  them  happy  and  well — 
they  deserve  it  all!" 

As  I  entered  the  room  of  a  young  Fnglish 
captain,  I  found  him  propped  up  in  bed  with  a 
few  magazines  and  books  beside  him.  He  was 
looking  very  bright  and  happy. 

"How  are  you  feeling  this  morning?"  It 
was  our  stock  question. 

[133] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

He  smiled  pleasantly  as  he  replied:  "Splen- 
did, sir,  splendid.  Your  nurses  are  charmingly 
attentive  and  kind.  The  rooms  and  meals  are 
delightful.  I'm  in  great  dread  lest  I  get  well 
too  soon!" 

He  was  wounded  in  the  foot;  it  had  been 
shot  through  with  a  piece  of  high  explosive 
shell.  The  small  bones  were  fractured,  but  he 
appeared  to  be  suffering  little.  The  nurse  deft- 
ly assisted  me  with  his  dressing;  after  we  had 
finished  he  said: 

"I  have  a  slip  of  paper  here  you  might  be 
interested  to  see.  I  shall  always  treasure  it  as 
a  souvenir  of  a  brave  man." 

He  handed  me  a  little  crumpled  square  on 
which  a  few  lines  in. pencil  were  scrawled,  and 
continued:  "I  showed  that  note  to  my  com- 
manding officer  before  they  carried  me  away. 
It  was  an  humiliation,  but  it  was  my  duty." 

"What  does  it  mean?"  I  asked  him.  "I'm 
sure  this  little  bit  of  paper  has  a  history." 

He  smiled  reminiscently  and  began:  "Our 
company  had  been  holding  a  point  in  the  lines 
which,  under  a  terrific  bombardment,  had  be- 
come untenable.  The  conmianding  officer 
[136] 


THE    FIRST    CAX.SDIAXS    IN    FKAXCE 

ordered  iis  to  withdraw  to  a  safer  trench  in  the 
rear.  I  called  my  men  and  we  succeeded  in 
retiring  to  the  position  indicated,  in  good  order 
and  with  few  casualties. 

"I  thought  every  man  had  left  the  advanced 
trench,  hut  a  few  moments  later  when  a  small 
hody  of  Germans  attempted  to  storm  it,  we 
w^ere  astonished  to  see  it  defended  by  rapid 
rifle  fire  from  some  unknown  source.  The  bat- 
tle raged  for  some  hours  all  along  the  line,  but 
still  this  little  spot  was  stubbornly  held.  Again 
and  again  the  Germans  assailed  it;  but  each 
time  with  the  same  lack  of  success — each  attack 
they  lost  twenty  or  thirty  men,  and  those  who 
reached  the  trench  were  apparently  unable  to 
oust  its  mysterious  defenders.  When  dusk 
fell  the  fighting  ceased;  and  shortly  after,  I 
received  this  little  note — it  speaks  for  itself." 

I  spread  the  paper  upon  my  knee  and  read : 

"Sir: 

"Two  other  men  and  I  w^ere  left  behind  when 
the  Company  withdrew.    During  the  fight  we 
collected  in  eight  stragglers  from  other  bat- 
talions, so  we  are  now  eleven.    We  held  the  line 
[137] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

against  all  the  attacks.  If  you,  sir,  and  the  rest 
of  the  company  wish  to  come  back  now,  the 
trench  is  perfectly  safe. 

"James  Guffin, 

"Sergeant" 


1 138  ] 


CHAPTER  IX 

Every  military  unit  at  the  front  has  its 
"mascot."  Ours  was  no  exception;  in  fact  we 
overdid  it,  and  became  a  sort  of  home  for  pets 
of  all  shapes  and  sizes,  from  Jean,  a  little 
French  boy  nine  years  of  age,  who  wandered 
in  one  day  from  Soissons,  to  nursing  sister 
jNIarlow's  baby  goat. 

Jean's  mother  was  dead;  his  father  was 
fighting  at  the  front,  and  the  little  chap  being, 
as  we  discovered  later,  of  a  migratory  disposi- 
tion, forsook  his  native  haunts  and  "took  the 
trail."  IIow  or  why  he  came  to  us,  no  one 
knows,  but  he  liked  our  company,  so  he  stayed. 

A  small  boy  being  the  only  sort  of  animal  we 
had  not  already  ado2:)ted,  was  hailed  with  joy, 
and  before  two  days  had  passed,  we  had  taken 
up  a  collection  and  bought  him  a  complete  mili- 
tary uniform,  from  cap  to  boots.  He  couldn't 
speak  a  word  of  English — but  he  was  a  boy, 
and  as  we  too  had  been  boys  not  so  very  long 
ago  we  understood  one  another  from  the  start. 
[139] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

Jean  picked  up  English  words  with  disturbing 
rapiditj^  He  had  learned  several  distinct  and 
artistic  varieties  of  oaths  before  we  were  aware 
he  understood  at  all. 

Jean  and  the  goat  had  much  in  common. 
They  had  both  been  cast  upon  a  warlike  world 
at  a  tender  age.  They  had  both  adopted  us, 
and  both  accepted  their  living  from  us  with 
gracious  condescension. 

According  to  world-wide  custom,  the  goat 
was  promptly  nick-named  "Billy,"  although  he 
was  a  mere  bundle  of  lank  grey  wool  with  legs 
so  long  that  it  must  have  made  him  dizzy  every 
time  he  viewed  the  earth  below.  He  was  just 
strong  enough  to  stagger  over  to  the  nursing 
bottle  which  Jean  held  out  in  his  grimy  fist. 

Jogman  loved  Jean;  Jean  loved  the  goat, 
and  the  goat  loved  Jogman.  Thus  was  estab- 
lished an  "odd-fellows"  circle  into  which  none 
might  break. 

"Dat's  a  hand  fer  ye,"  Tim  commented  to 
Jogman,  as  the  pair  watched  Jean  feeding  the 
goat.  "A  hand  like  dat  ain't  friends  wit'  soap 
an'  water,  but  de  goat  ain't  too  pertickler." 

"I  washed  him  about  an  hour  ago,"  Jogman 
[  140  ] 


THE    FIKST    CAX.VDIAXS    IX    FRAXCE 

replied  defensively,  "but  ye  can't  keep  th'  boy 
clean — he  ain't  happy  without  dirt." 

Jean  sat  upon  the  ground  as  they  spoke,  still 
holding  the  nursing  bottle  up  to  Billy's  greedy 
mouth.  He  understood  only  a  little  of  what 
they  were  saying,  but  looked  up  quickly  at  the 
last  few  words. 

"I'm  happy  here — me,"  he  cried.  "Bicn  con- 
tent— damn!" 

The  expletive  was  addressed  to  Billy  who 
with  a  sudden  tug  had  pulled  the  bottle  from 
his  hand. 

"Do  ye  know  where  small  boys  that  swear 
go?"  asked  Jogman  reprovingly. 

"Big  boys  what  swear  go  to  de  war,"  Jean 
contended,  "an'  me  soldier  too." 

"If  you  do  it  again  I'll  send  ye  back  to  yer 
aunt  at  Soissons,"  said  Jogman. 

The  child  sjDrang  to  his  feet  at  once,  and 
catching  him  by  the  hand  cried  tearfully:  "No! 
— No! — No! — not  back  to  Soissons — Oh!  Je 
vous  en  pn'c,  non!" 

What   strange   fear  had   driven  him   from 

home?     He  couldn't  or  wouldn't  explain  it; 

but  he  was  in  great  dread  of  being  sent  back, 

and  it  was  the  one  threat  which  influenced  him. 

[141] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

"Well,  well,"  said  Jogman  soothingly,  "be 
a  good  boy,  an'  don't  swear  no  more — then  we 
kin  keep  ye  with  us." 

Jogman  had  a  good  heart,  but  a  bad  stomach 
— it's  difficult  to  get  a  perfect  combination. 
Jogman  drank;  so  did  the  goat,  but  they  im- 
bibed from  different  bottles  and  with  different 
results.  He  had  been  on  his  good  behaviour  for 
almost  two  weeks — his  money  had  run  out.  But 
pay  day  came  at  last  and  trouble  always  fol- 
lowed in  its  wake. 

Thirty  dollars — over  one  hundred  and  fifty 
francs  in  French  money — was  enough  to  turn 
the  head  of  any  soldier.  With  a  bulging  pocket 
the  Tommy's  heart  throbbed  nervously,  until 
he  got  a  chance  to  "blow  it  in."  But  before  this 
fortuitous  event  was  completed  Jogman  had 
signally  disgraced  himself  and  us.  Tim  ac- 
costed him  as  he  was  leaving  the  hospital 
grounds : 

"Where  are  ye  goin'?"  he  demanded. 

"Goin'  to  town  to  see  th'  sights,"  Jogman 
returned  with  a  grin. 

''Some  sights — dose  gals,"  Tim  growled. 
"Remember  yer  failin'  an'  don't  hit  de  can  too 
[142] 


THE    FIEST    CAN.VDIANS    IN    FRANCE 

hard.  I  can't  bear  seein'  ye  doin'  mor'n  six 
days  'First  Field'  per  week." 

Jognian  had  good  cause  to  know  to  what 
form  of  niihtary  punishment  Tim  alhided.  He 
had  already  had  several  trials  of  it. 

Paris-plage  was  only  two  miles  distant,  and 
its  smart  cafes  and  i)retty  girls  called  irresisti- 
bly to  the  lonely  boys.  The  girls,  however, 
never  worried  Jogman.  His  life  was  full  when 
his  stomach  was  full,  and  the  fumes  of  "cog- 
nac" or  "whiskey  blanc"  beckoned  him  like  a 
siren's  smile.  Loaded  down  with  his  full 
month's  pay  and  with  a  twenty-four  hour  pass 
in  his  pocket,  he  took  the  shortest  path  through 
the  forest  towards  his  objective. 

The  day  was  clear  and  almost  warm,  and  the 
soft  breeze  droned  lazily  through  the  pines.  As 
he  reached  the  edge  of  the  wood  he  saw  before 
him  the  sand  dunes  rolling  gently  toward  the 
sea.  There  was  a  weird  fascination  about  those 
great  hollows  and  hills  of  sand.  Time  and  the 
wind  had  beaten  them  so  firmly  that  one  might 
tread  upon  their  crusted  surface  and  scarcely 
leave  a  footprint.  Craters  as  large  as  the 
Roman  Coliseum,  surrounded  by  tufted  grass, 
spread  before  his  gaze,  but  he  tramped 
[  143  ] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

stolidly  on,  hardly  conscious  of  the  lonely 
beauty  of  his  environment.  All  that  Jogman 
saw  was  the  top  of  the  large  French  hospital 
which  marked  the  edge  of  the  town  and  stood 
out  clearly  against  the  deep  blue  of  the  sea. 

When  he  came  to  the  highest  point  of  the 
dunes  he  idly  noticed  the  strange  house  sur- 
mounting it — a  dwelling  made  from  an  over- 
turned fishing-smack,  w^ith  door  and  windows 
in  its  side.  But  a  little  farther  on  a  habitation, 
stranger  still,  by  accident  attracted  his  atten- 
tion. He  had  lain  down  for  a  moment's  rest 
beside  some  bushes,  and  on  turning  his  head 
was  surprised  to  see  a  small  window  on  a  level 
with  his  eyes.  The  house  was  buried  in  the 
sand;  its  little  door,  scarce  big  enough  to  per- 
mit a  man's  body  to  pass  through,  was  cun- 
ningly hidden  by  the  brush  and  grass.  Who- 
ever lived  within  was  hiding  from  the  world. 

Jogman  got  upon  his  knees  and  thrust  the 
brush  aside;  he  pried  open  the  window  and 
peered  within.  He  saw  a  small  room,  neatly 
furnished  with  bed  and  rug  and  chair.  A  dres- 
ser stood  againt  the  wall.  An  electric  light 
hung  from  the  ceiling,  but  no  wires  were  visible 
without.  The  clothes  still  lying  upon  the  bed, 
[  144  ] 


THE    FIKST    CAN.VDIAXS    IX    TKANCE 

the  overturned  chair  and  the  remains  of  a 
lunch  upon  the  table  all  spoke  of  a  hasty  de- 
parture. Perhaps  it  had  been  the  secret  home 
of  a  German  spy.  If  so,  he  had  decamped 
some  time  since. 

Dismissing  idle  speculation,  but  making  a 
mental  note  for  future  reference,  Jogman  rose 
and  proceeded  on  his  quest.  lie  soon  found 
himself  in  the  streets  of  that  lively  little  town 
which  has  been  aptly  called  the  "^lonte  Carlo" 
of  northern  France.  Its  big  gambling  "Ca- 
sinos" had  long  since  been  turned  to  better  use, 
and  the  beds  of  wounded  soldiers  now  replaced 
the  gambling  tables  and  2)ctits  chcvaux. 

Hurrying  through  the  "Swiss  Village"  and 
scarcely  taking  time  to  acknowledge  the  greet- 
ings of  a  Belgian  lassie  who  waved  her  hand 
from  a  shop  window  as  he  passed,  he  entered 
the  Cafe  Central  and  seating  himself  at  one 
of  the  little  round  tables  forthwith  called  for  a 
drink.    The  barmaid  approached  him. 

"M'sieur  vent?"  she  asked. 

"Gimme  a  glass  of  Scotch  an'  soda,"  Jog- 
man  demanded. 

"Ees  eet  wiskie  m'sieur  desires?"  she  queried 
in  broken  English. 

[145] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

"Yes — whiskey — big  glass,"  said  Jogman 
picturing  the  size  with  his  two  hands. 

''Out,  m'sieur." 

She  filled  his  glass.  He  drank  it  thirstily 
and  called  for  another.  Several  more  followed 
their  predecessors,  and  being  now  comfortably 
alight  he  proceeded  up  street,  seeking  new 
worlds  to  conquer. 

The  butcher-shop  door  stood  invitingly  open. 
Jogman  entered  unsteadily ;  what  maudlin  idea 
was  fermenting  in  his  brain  none  but  himself 
might  say.  The  fat  butcher,  meataxe  in  hand 
and  pencil  behind  his  (  ^.r,  approached  to  take 
his  order. 

"Bonjour,  monsieurr  he  said. 

Jogman  placed  one  hand  upon  the  slab,  the 
better  to  steady  the  shop  which,  ignoring  the 
law  of  gravity,  was  reeling  in  most  unshoply 
fashion. 

"Bone  Dewar,  yerself !"  he  cried,  incensed  at 
being  addressed  in  an  unintelligible  language. 
"Why  th'  hell  can't  ye  speak  English — like  a — 
white  man?" 

How  often  we  too  have  been  unreasonably 
irritated  by  a  foreign  and  incomprehensible 
tongue!  Jogman's  sense  of  injustice  was  pre- 
[146] 


Tiii:    FIUST    CAN.VDIANS    IN    1  KANCE 

ternaturally  keen  just  then.  The  butcher  was 
a  trifle  alarmed  at  his  attitude  without  in  the 
least  understanding  the  cause  of  complaint. 

"Quest  cc  que  vous  voulez,  momiewr?"  he 
demanded  nervously. 

"Drop  that  hatchet!"  cried  his  irrational 
customer,  making  a  steu  forward.  "Drop  it,  er 
I'll  drop  you." 

The  unfortunate  shopkeeper  grasped  his 
weapon  more  firmly  still,  and  stood  tremu- 
lously on  the  defensive. 

"Ill  learn  ye  to  do  as  ye're  told!"  shouted 
Jogman,  and  seizing  a  large  knife  from  the 
slab  he  rushed  at  the  frightened  man  who  ran 
screaming  into  the  street,  with  Jogman  in  hot 
pursuit. 

Tlie  sight  of  a  British  soldier  brandishing  a 
meat  knife  and  chasing  a  fellow  citizen  along 
the  main  street  was  terrifying  in  the  extreme 
to  tlie  peaceful  denizens  of  the  town.  They 
ran  shrieking  for  help,  bolting  into  their  shops 
or  houses,  and  barring  the  doors  as  though  the 
devil  himself  with  a  regiment  of  imps  on  horse- 
back were  at  their  heels. 

Jogman  had  cleared  the  Rue  de  IjOndres 
and  in  the  pride  of  drunken  conquest  was  about 
[1^7] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

to  attack  the  lesser  streets,  when  the  Military 
Police  hove  in  sight.  Much  to  his  annoyance 
the  disturbance  interrupted  Sergeant  Honk  in 
a  monosyllabic  conversation,  which  he  was 
holding  with  a  pretty  French  girl.  He  humped 
himself  around  the  corner  just  in  time  to  see 
the  Sergeant  of  Police  take  the  belligerent 
Jogman  by  the  scruff  of  the  neck  and  the  seat 
of  his  breeches  and  heave  him  into  a  waiting 
ambulance. 

Honk  returned  to  his  Juliette.  She  had  re- 
tired to  her  balcony  and  refused  to  descend. 
Honk  lifted  his  voice  appealingly  from  the 
street : 

"H'l  say!  Down't  ye'  be  h'afeered — 'e  won't 
come  back,  an'  'e  wouldn't  'urt  ye  when  h'I'm 
'ere.     Come  h'on  down!" 

But  Juliette  was  obdurate,  and  turned  a  deaf 
ear  to  his  entreaties. 

"Merci — je  ne  descends  point!"  she  re- 
turned. This  was  about  as  intelligible  to  Honk 
as  Chinese  script,  but  he  understood  the  shake 
of  the  head  all  too  well. 

"Blast  'im,"  he  grumbled;  "them  bloomin* 
blokes  what  drinks  is  goin'  to  'ave  th'  'ole 
bleedin'  town  h'about  our  h'ears.  Th'  gals 
[148] 


THE    FIRST    CAN.\DIANS    IN    FKANCE 

won't  look  at  a  decent  feller  soon."  And  he 
forthwith  went  to  drown  his  sorrow  in  a  mug  of 
beer. 

Honk's  complaint  was  soon  verified  by  the 
facts.  Jogman's  fame  flew  from  house  to 
house  with  such  infernal  rapidity  that  in  less 
than  twenty-four  hours  the  French  had  learned 
an  English  phrase  which  it  cost  our  lads  sev- 
eral months  of  good  conduct  to  eradicate.  It 
was  simple  and  to  the  point:  "Canadians  no 
good!"  For  weeks  afterward  it  was  shouted 
at  them  every  time  they  entered  the  village. 
The  populace  gathered  in  little  groups  close  to 
their  own  homes,  while  a  few  of  the  m.ore  timid 
locked  themselves  in  and  shouted  through  the 
shutters  these  same  humiliating  words. 

As  Jogman  was  brought  in  to  the  Guard 
Room,  Barker  caught  a  glimpse  of  him. 

"Well,"  Barker  cried  in  scathing  criticism; 
"the  colonel  said  I  wuz  th'  first  t'  disgrace  th' 
unit.  By  cripes;  I  wuzn't  th'  last.  You  sure 
made  a  good  job  uv  it!" 

The  colonel  \^as  a  busy  man.  His  day  was 
as  varied  and  colourful  as  Job's  coat.  When  it 
wasn't  the  vegetable  woman  who  had  to  be  bar- 
tered with,  it  was  tlic  iceman  who  sought,  witli 
[  149] 


THE    FIRST    CAN^iDIANS    IN    FRANCE 

true  French  business  acumen,  to  show  him  why- 
he  wasn't  really  overcharged,  although  the  bill 
was  three  times  what  the  natives  had  to  pay. 

"Alvred"  had  been  installed  as  "Inter- 
preter," and  throughout  all  these  ridiculous 
and  unsatisfactory  arguments  maintained  a 
face  as  impassive  as  an  English  butler  at  a 
club  dinner. 

If  the  electric  light  bill  to  the  former  tenant 
was  eighty  francs  ]3er  month,  and  our  bill  was 
three  hundred  francs  for  the  same  period,  mon- 
sieur was  assured,  on  word  of  honour,  that  the 
party  of  the  first  part  was  undercharged,  and 
would  forthwith  be  requested  to  pay  the  dif- 
ference. But  one  thing  was  certain;  the  ac- 
count against  us  was  always  correct. 

When  the  colonel  had  finished  these  little 
business  details  he  was  hurried  away  to  the  op- 
erating room.  A  serious  case  was  awaiting  his 
skilled  hand.  The  wounded  man,  whose  thigh 
had  been  shattered  with  a  rifle  bullet,  was  lying 
upon  the  table  waiting  patiently  to  be  ether- 
ised. The  colonel  stepped  over  to  pass  a  kindly 
word  with  him  before  he  was  put  to  sleep. 

"And  how  are  you  this  morning?"  he  en- 
quired. 

[  150  ] 


rilF.    FIRST    CANxVDIAXS    IN    FKANCE 

"Oh,  verra  weel  in  me'self,"  the  poor  fellow 
answered,  with  a  ready  smile,  "but  ma  leg  is  a 
bit  troublesome.  I  hope  ye  won't  hae  t'  cut 
it  off,  sir?" 

"Oh,  I  think  not,"  the  colonel  declared  re- 
assuringly. "I  expect  it  won't  be  as  serious  as 
that." 

"In  course,  sir,  ye'll  dae  whichever  ye  think 
best — but  I  hae  a  wife  and  twa  wee  bairnies  at 
hame,  an'  I  were  thinkin'  as  how  I'd  be  better 
able  tae  dae  for  them  wi'  baith  ma  legs." 

"We'll  do  our  very  best  to  save  it,"  the 
colonel  answered. 

In  a  few  minutes  we  yvere  dressed  in  our 
white  gowns  and  caj^s.  The  X-ray  plates  were 
brought  in  and  placed  in  the  illuminator  for  us 
to  see  the  exact  damage  done.  The  tliigh  bone 
was  badly  splintered  for  a  distance  of  three 
inches,  and  one  large  piece  was  torn  away.  We 
hoped  to  be  able  to  put  a  steel  plate  upon  the 
bone,  and,  by  screwing  it  doMn,  draw  tlie  frag- 
ments together  with  some  fair  chance  of  having 
tliem  unite.  This  is  a  delicate  operation,  and 
not  only  demands  considerable  skill,  Init  the 
operating  facilities  must  be  perfect. 

Fortunately  our  operating  room  was  ideal, 

[  151  ] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

with  its  white  enamelled  walls  and  marble 
basins,  its  rubber  covered  floor,  the  most  mod- 
ern of  surgical  appliances,  and,  most  important 
of  all,  a  staff  of  highly  trained  nurses — it  was 
as  ideal  as  science  could  make  it. 

With  a  bright  keen  knife  the  incision  was 
made  down  to  the  bone.  Alas!  It  was  hope- 
lessly fractured.  For  a  space  of  several  inches 
there  was  nothing  but  tiny  fragments,  and  the 
one  long  loose  piece  we  had  seen  in  the  X-ray 
plate.     The  colonel  turned,  and  said: 

"What  a  pity!  The  space  is  so  large,  the 
bone  will  never  regenerate.  This  leg  should 
come  off — but  I  promised  to  try  and  save  it." 

We  discussed  the  situation  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, and  finally  decided  to  try  an  experi- 
ment. The  loose  piece  of  bone  had  not  yet 
been  thrown  away.  Might  it  be  used  as  a 
splint?  We  fitted  it  in  between  the  upper  and 
lower  fragment — it  was  just  long  enough  to 
be  wedged  between.  We  drilled  a  hole  through 
either  end  and  fastened  it  firmly  with  silver 
wire.  Would  it  grow  or  decay  there  ?  We  had 
grave  doubts,  and  time  alone  would  tell. 

Let  no  one  imagine  that  in  the  thousands  of 
operations  performed  at  the  front  surgeons 
[152] 


THE    FIRST    CAN.VDIANS    IN    FRANCE 

become  careless!  Every  case  is  a  special  one; 
every  "Tommy"  the  private  patient  of  the  Em- 
pire. The  surgeon's  responsibility  is  as  great 
— and  he  feels  it,  too — in  that  far-away  land, 
as  it  is  at  home. 

We  put  the  limb  in  a  plaster  cast  to  hold  it 
firm.  It  liad  been  a  clean  wound — no  infection 
— we  had  hopes.  Six  weeks  later  the  bone  had 
united  fairly  well,  and  in  three  months  jNIc- 
Pherson  was  able  to  walk! 

But  when  this  operation  was  done  the  colo- 
nel's troubles  were  by  no  means  over  for  the 
day.  It  was  ten  o'clock,  and  "office"  must  be 
held.  This  miniature  military  "Police-Court" 
sits  every  morning,  with  the  commanding  of- 
ficer as  judge.  If  the  court  is  small,  it  is  by 
no  means  unimportant.  Jogman  realised  this 
as  he  stood  waiting  with  the  guard  and  wit- 
nesses in  the  hall,  the  day  after  his  great  "de- 
bacle." 

The  colonel  and  adjutant  were  seated  in 
due  state,  being  in  full  "service  dress,"  which, 
as  distinct  from  undress,  comprises  belt  and 
cap.  The  sergeant-major,  in  equally  dread 
attire,  ordered  tlie  guard  and  prisoner  (the 
latter  being  minus  both  l)clt  and  cap — these 
[153] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

appurtenances  being  denied  him)  to  "  'Shun! 
— Right  turn;  quick  march! — Halt! — Right 
turn!"  and  the  whole  squad  was  in  line,  await- 
ing "office." 

The  colonel's  face  wore  a  tired  and  worried 
expression;  his  smile  had  disappeared.  The 
sergeant-ma j  or  announced : 

"Private  Jogman,  sir!" 

The  adjutant  read  the  charge  sheet. 
"Number  17462,  Private  James  Jogman,  is 
accused  with  conduct  to  the  prejudice  of  good 
order  and  military  discipline,  in  that  he,  on  the 
afternoon  of  the  21st  instant  at  4  p.m.,  in  the 
village  of  Paris-plage,  was  disorderly." 

The  colonel  turned  to  the  accused:  "Pri- 
vate Jogman,  you  have  heard  the  charge 
against  you,  as  read.  Are  you  'guilty'  or  'not 
guilty'?'' 

"Not  guilty, — sir,"  Jogman  muttered 
shamefacedly. 

Sergeant  Honk,  as  a  witness,  expressed  his 
surprise  by  an  almost  imperceptible  lifting  of 
the  brush  of  red  hair  which  did  service  in  lieu 
of  eyebrows.  The  sergeant-major's  lip  curled 
slightly.  The  colonel's  face  remained  immo- 
bile. 

[154] 


THE    FIRST    CAN.U)IANS    IN    FKANCE 

"Read  the  written  statement  of  the  jNIilitary 
Police,  iNIr.  Adjutant,"  he  commanded. 

The  adjutant  did  so.  Each  line  was  cor- 
rect and  convincing.  The  accused,  when  asked, 
declined  to  express  an  opinion  on  it. 

"\Mio  is  the  first  witness?"  the  colonel 
asked. 

"Sergeant  Honk,  sir." 

"Sergeant  Honk,  what  do  you  know  of  this 
case?"  demanded  tlie  Colonel. 

"Sir,  h'on  the  afternoon  of  the  twenty-first, 
at  ahout  four  o'clock,  h'l  was  talkin'  to  a  lady 
h'on  the  main  street  of  Paree-plaige,  when  h'l 
'card  th'  devil  of  a  row — beg  pardon,  sir,  it 
slipped  h'out  afore  I  thought." 

"Go  on;"  said  the  colonel  drily.  "I  dare- 
say what  you  state  is  quite  correct." 

Thus  encouraged.  Honk  resumed  with  mo- 
rose enthusiasm:  "H'l  says  to  th'  young  lady, 
says  h'l,  'Somethin's  broke  loose  'ere.'  The 
women  and  men  was  a-screamin'  an'  runnin' 
into  their  'ouscs.  H'l  run  to  the  corner  as  fast 
as  me  legs  could  carry  me — "  Jogman  looked 
instinctively  at  Honk's  queer  limbs,  as  if  he 
were  about  to  do  a  mental  calculation  of  his 
[  155  ] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

speed,  but  was  immediately  called  to  attention 
by  the  sergeant-major. 

"When  h'l  got  there,  h'l  see  th'  prisoner 

goin'  like  h (h'excuse  me,  sir)  ;  well,  'e 

were  goin'  some,  I  tell  'e,  with  a  butcher's  knife 
in  'is  mit " 

"Did  he  appear  intoxicated?"  the  colonel  in- 
terrupted. 

"  'Orrible  drunk,  h'l  calls  it,  sir — 'e  were 
that  same,  sir;  and  afore  h'l  gets  to  'im,  th' 
Sergeant  o'  Police  'ad  'im  by  th'  seat  of  'is 
pants  an'  'oisted  'im  into  the  waggin!" 

"Have  you  any  questions  to  put  to  the  wit- 
ness?" the  colonel  asked. 

"Yes,  sir,"  Jogman  replied.  "Will  Ser- 
geant Honk  state,  sir,  how  many  beers  he  had 
inside  him  when  he  thought  he  seed  me?" 

The  unfortunate  Honk  turned  a  deeper  hue 
of  red,  and  shuffled  uncomfortably  from  one 
foot  to  the  other. 

"Your  question  is  not  allowed,"  the  colonel 
replied  sternly.  "There  is  plenty  of  other  evi- 
dence to  show  that  Sergeant  Honk's  vision  was 
reasonably  accurate." 

Other  witnesses  were  called,  but  the  evidence 
was  all  equally  damning.  At  last  the  colonel 
[156] 


THE    ITKST    CAN.U)IANS    IN    FKANCE 

asked  the  prisoner  if  he  had  any  further  de- 
fence to  offer. 

Jogman  replied:  "Yes,  sir.  Last  month  I 
fell  from  the  boiler  and  my  head  has  been  queer 
ever  since.  AVhen  I  take  a  drink  I  don't  know 
what  I'm  doin'.  I  don't  remember  anything 
about  all  this." 

And  the  Colonel  replied:  "This  month  you 
fell  from  the  water  waggon,  and  your  head  is 
queerer  than  before.  For  the  crime  of  which 
you  are  guilty  you  might  be  shot ;  but  I  intend 
being  lenient  with  you — on  one  condition — " 

Jogman  looked  up  expectantly. 

" — and  that  is — -that  you  sign  the  pledge  that 
you  will  not  touch  another  drop  of  liquor  while 
you  are  in  France." 

Ilonk  looked  as  if  he  thought  this  worse  than 
being  shot.  Jogman  glanced  furtively  at  the 
colonel's  face;  he  had  never  seen  him  look  so 
severe  before.  It  was  a  big  sacrifice,  but  it 
could  not  be  avoided.  He  heaved  a  sigh  and 
replied  slowly:    "I'll — sign — it,  sir!" 

"Twenty-eight  days  First  Field  Punish- 
ment!" 

"Right  turn,  quick  march!"  cried  the  ser- 
geant-major; and  "oflice"  was  over  for  the 
[157] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

day.    Remorseful  recollection  of  the  pledge  he 
had  just  signed  clouded  Jogman's  brow. 

"He's  gone  an'  spoiled  th'  whole  w^ar  fer 
me,"  he  grumbled,  as  they  led  him  away. 


[158] 


CHAPTER   X 

Reggy  might  have  heen  a  success  as  INIess 
Secretary,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  the  Camembert 
cheese.  Xo  one  could  have  remained  popular 
long  under  such  a  handicap.  He  had  discov- 
ered it  in  some  outlandish  shop  in  Paris-plage. 
The  shoj^keeper  had  been  ostracised  and  the 
health  authorities  called  in. 

Some  one  has  said  that  cheese  improves  with 
age.  I  do  not  propose  to  indulge  in  futile 
argument  with  connoisseurs,  but  Reggj^'s 
cheese  had  passed  maturity  and  died  an  unnat- 
ural death.  When  he  produced  its  green  moss- 
covered  remains  upon  the  table,  the  officers 
were  forthwith  divided  into  two  factions — 
those  who  liked  cheese  and  those  who  did  not; 
and  the  latter  class  stated  their  objections  with 
an  emphasis  and  strength  which  rivalled  the 
Camembert. 

Corporal  Granger  had  charge  of  the  Mess. 
He  was  a  quiet,  gentlemanly  little  chap  who 
said  little,  thought  much,  and  smoked  when  he 
[159] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FEANCE 

had  a  chance.  He  opened  the  box  before  din- 
ner, took  a  whiff  which  distorted  his  face,  and 
silently  passed  the  box  to  his  assistants. 

Wilson  and  Rene — a  French-Canadian  lad 
— wrinkled  their  noses  in  unison  over  it;  then 
Wilson  drawled: 

"Smells — like  a — disease — ^we  uster  have — 
in  the  ward  upstairs." 

But  Rene's  atavistic  sense  approved  the 
cheese.  "Dat's  bon  fromage,"  he  declaimed 
emphatically.  "Cheese  ain't  good  until  it 
smells  like  dat." 

"Then  folks  to  home  eats  a  lot  what's  bad 
fer  them — don't  they?"  Wilson  retorted,  with 
mild  satire;  "an'  them  so  healthy  too!" 

Rene  disdained  controversy,  and  with  unruf- 
fled dignity  continued  laying  the  table.  Dur- 
ing the  first  few  months  of  our  labours  he  had 
been  orderly  to  no  less  a  person  than  the 
senior  major — hence  his  feeling  of  supe- 
riority. But  he  and  the  Second-in-Command 
hadn't  always  agreed;  the  senior  major  had 
a  jjenchant  for  collecting  excess  baggage, 
and  it  behooved  his  unfortunate  batman  to 
pack,  unpack  and  handle  his  ever-increasing 
number  of  boxes  and  bags.  By  the  time  we 
[160] 


THE    FIRST    CAN.U)IAXS    IN    FRANCE 

reached  Boulogne  these  had  become  a  great 
burden.  Kene  looked  ruefully  down  upon  it 
before  he  started  to  lift  it,  piece  by  piece,  into 
the  lorrie. 

"Ba  gosh!"  he  exclaimed,  in  perspiring  re- 
monstrance, "1  hope  de  war  don'  last  too  long 
— er  it'll  take  one  whole  train  to  move  de  ma- 
jor's bag-gage!" 

Rene  was  impressionable  and  had  all  the  ro- 
mantic instinct  of  the  true  Frenchman.  As  I 
watched  him  decorating  the  table  with  flowers 
— we  were  to  have  company  that  night,  and  it 
was  to  be  an  event  of  unusual  importance  to 
us — my  recollection  carried  me  back  to  a  bleak 
October  night  on  Salisbury  Plain.  It  was 
scarcely  nine  p.m.,  but  I  had  turned  in  and  lay 
wrapped  in  my  sleeping  bag,  reading  by  the 
lif^f-ht  of  a  candle  propped  on  a  cocoa  tin.  Rene 
had  just  returned  from  "three  days'  leave," 
having  travelled  over  fifty  miles  to  see  a  lit- 
tle girl  whose  face  had  haunted  him  for  weeks. 
He  was  flushed  with  excitement  and  had  to  un- 
burden his  heart  to  some  one.  He  stepped  into 
my  tent  for  a  moment,  the  rain  running  off  his 
cap  and  coat  in  little  rivulets  onto  the  floor. 

"I'm  afraid  vou're  in  love,  Rene,"  I  teased, 
[  161  ] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FBANCE 

after  he  had  given  me  a  glowing  account  of  his 
trip. 

"I  t'ink  dat's  right,"  he  exclaimed,  with 
sparkling  eyes.  "Why,  dat's  de  purtiest  gal 
what  I  ever  see.  Dose  arms  of  hers!  Gee, 
dere  ain't  lilies  so  white  like  dat,  an'  de  roses 
of  her  cheeks ! — every  time  I  meet  her,  I  see  her 
like  more  kinds  of  flowers!" 

"But  you'll  see  another  bud  next  week, 
Rene,"  I  interjected,  "and  forget  all  about  this 
dainty  little  flower." 

"Me  forget?  Non!"  he  declared,  with  con- 
viction— and  then  a  wistful  look  crept  into  his 
big  brown  eyes.  He  sat  upon  the  edge  of 
Reggy's  cot  opposite  and  reminiscently 
smoothed  the  hair  off  his  brow  before  he  con- 
tinued : 

"Sometime  wen  you're  up  de  Gat'-ineau  at 
home,  an'  de  lumbermen  free  de  logs  in  de  ri- 
viere, you  see  dem  float  so  peaceful  down  de 
stream.  De  water  is  run  so  slow  an'  quiet  you 
don'  see  no  movement  dere;  but  bimeby  de 
riviere  go  lil'  faster,  de  ripples  wash  de  banks, 
de  logs  move  swifter  an'  more  swift  until  dey 
come  above  de  falls — dey  fall,  crash,  boom! 
One  gets  stuck,  a^muder  an'  annuder;  dey 
[162] 


KKNE      HAI.    RISEN-     IN     THK     K  XCITF.MKXT     OF     HIS     DESCRIPTION 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    IIIANCE 

jam — dey  pile  up  higher  an'  more  high — more 
hun 'reds  of  logs  come  down,  an'  jam  an'  jam. 
De  water  can't  pass — it  overflow  de  hank  an' 
spread  out  in  a  great  lake  over  de  fields." 

Rene  had  risen  in  the  excitement  of  his  de- 
scription. The  candle  light  shone  faintly  upon 
his  hroad  shoulders  and  handsome,  inspired 
face.  His  right  arm  was  extended  in  harmony 
with  the  vehemence  of  his  description.  He 
continued  more  softly : 

"Dat  riviere  is  me;  de  falls  is  my  lil'  gal  at 
de  turnin'-point  of  my  life,  an'  de  great  lake 
is  my  love  which  has  hurst  over  de  fields  of  my 
fancy  an'  freshes  all  de  dry  places.  I  can't  tell 
you  how  I  love  dat  gal — sometimes  I  tink — 
mayhe — I  marry  her  some  day." 

At  this  juncture  the  senior  major  had 
thrust  his  head  inside  the  tent. 

"Rene,"  he  called  sternly,  "get  hack  to  your 
work !  Wash  my  ruhher  hoots  and  keep  an  eye 
on  the  tent  'til  I  return." 

And  poor  Rene,  thus  rudely  brought  to 
earth,  had  crept  silently  away. 

At  seven-thirty  p.m.,  the  shrill  call  of  the 
bugle  sounded  "Officers'  Mess": 
[1G3] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

"The  officers'  wives  get  pudding  and  pies. 
The  soldiers'  wives  get  skilly — " 

It  is  the  one  call  which  every  officer,  senior  or 
junior,  knows  by  heart,  and  answers  promptly. 

A  mess  dinner  is  a  parade,  and  is  conducted 
with  all  the  pomp  and  dignity  peculiar  to  a 
Chinese  wedding.  Woe  betide  the  untrained 
"sub"  who  dares  seat  himself  before  the  Com- 
manding Officer  has  taken  his  place  at  the  cen- 
tre of  the  table!  For  the  first  time  since  our 
arrival  in  France,  we  were  to  be  honoured  with 
the  presence  of  several  ladies,  and  the  whole 
mess  was  in  a  state  of  excitement  compatible 
with  the  seriousness  of  such  an  occasion.  It 
was  so  long  since  any  of  us  had  dined  under 
the  charming,  but  restraining,  influence  of  the 
fair  sex  that,  as  Reggy  afterward  remarked, 
he  was  in  a  condition  bordering  on  nervous 
prostration  lest  he  forget  to  eat  the  ice  cream 
with  his  fork,  or,  worse  still,  "butter"  his  bread 
with  p)ate  de  fois  gras. 

Reggy  had  other  worries  on  his  mind  as  well. 
He  had  been  taken  aside  early,  and  solemnly 
warned  that  if  he,  his  heirs,  executors  or  as- 
signs, dared  to  bring  forth  upon  the  table  so 
[164] 


tup:    FIKST    CAN-VDIAXS    IN    rilANCE 

much  as  a  smell  of  his  ill-favoured  cheese,  he 
would  be  led  out  upon  the  sand  dunes  at  early 
dawn  and  shot.  This  precaution  having  been 
duly  taken,  he  was  permitted  to  retire  to  the 
pantry  with  Fraser  and  Corporal  Granger, 
and  amuse  himself  making  thirty  Bronx  cock- 
tails for  our  express  delectation.  Promptly, 
as  the  last  note  of  the  bugle  died  away,  the 
colonel  and  matron  ushered  our  fair  guests 
into  the  i\less  Room. 

Had  our  long  separation  from  the  beautiful 
women  of  Canada  whetted  our  sense  of  appre- 
ciation? Or  was  it  some  dim  recollection  of  an 
almost-forgotten  social  world  which  stimulated 
our  imagination?  Certainly  no  more  exquisite 
representatives  of  the,  to  us,  long-lost  tribe  of 
lovely  women  ever  graced  a  INIess  Room  in 
France ! 

After  the  customary  introductions  had 
taken  })lace,  the  twenty-five  olHcers  who  now 
com^^rised  our  ^less  distributed  themselves  in 
various  awkward  positions  about  the  chairs  of 
the  five  ladies — all  the  rest  of  our  chairs  were 
at  the  table — each  trying  vainly  to  give  himself 
that  a])pearance  of  graceful  ease  which  iiKh- 
[165] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

cates  that  the  entertainment  of  grandes 
dames  is  our  chief  sport  in  Canada. 

What  a  dreadful  encumbrance  one's  hands 
are  on  such  an  occasion!  A  mihtary  uniform 
does  not  take  kindly  to  having  its  wearer's 
hands  thrust  deeply  into  his  breeches  pockets, 
and,  as  every  one  knows,  this  is  the  only  way 
to  feel  at  ease  when  addressing  a  lady  in  her 
evening  gown — if  you  fold  your  hands  unos- 
tentatiously behind  your  back,  it  hampers  your 
powers  of  repartee. 

Lady  Danby,  who  conducted  a  Red  Cross 
Hospital  in  a  near-by  town,  appreciated  our 
embarrassment,  and  did  her  best  to  make  us 
feel  at  home. 

"What  a  delightful  Mess  Room!"  she  ex- 
claimed, as  her  tall,  lithesome  figure  sank  into 
an  arm  chair.  "It  must  be  so  restful  and  re- 
freshing after  those  dreadful  operations!" 

"Captain  Reggy  finds  it  very  restful  in- 
deed," Burnham  volunteered  mischievously; 
"he  spends  a  great  deal  of  his  time  here — ^mix- 
ing drinks." 

"Ah! — and  he  does  them  so  very  well  too," 
exclaimed  Madame  Cuillard,  with  a  flash  of 
her  beautiful  dark  eyes  toward  the  hero  of  the 
[  166  ] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    I'KANCE 


iiioiiient,  and  lifting  her  glass  to  him  in  gra- 
cious compliment.  "He  is  a  man  after  my  own 
heart." 

"^ladam,  you  flatter  me,"  Reggy  murmured, 
with  a  low  bow,  "and  yet  I  fear  I  am  not  the 
first  who  has  been  'after'  such  a  kindly  heart?" 

"Xor  you  shall  not  be  the  last,  I  hope,"  the 
little  widow  returned,  with  a  ripphng  laugh. 
"Still,  'Weak  heart  never  won' — ah,  non — I 
am  forgetting  my  English — let  it  pass.  A 
heart  is  so  easy  to  be  lost  in  France — you  must 
be  careful." 

Fraser's  Gibsonian  figure  towered  above  the 
others  as  he  and  Father  Bonsecour  and  the 
senior  major  stood  chatting  with  two  Cana- 
dian guests.  The  girls  made  a  pretty  contrast, 
petite,  dainty  and  vivacious ;  the  one  with  blue- 
])lack  hair  and  large  soft  brown  eyes,  the  other 
fair  as  an  angel,  with  hair  of  finely  spun  gold 
and  eyes  as  blue  as  the  sea  over  the  dunes. 

"^lay  I  take  your  glasses?"  Fraser  queried. 

"Thank  you,  by  all  means,"  said  the  little 
brunette  smilingly.  "There's  nothing  I  re- 
gret more  than  an  empty  glass  or  a  flower  that 
is  dead." 

"The  former  leaves  little  to  hope,  and  the 
[167] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

latter  hopes  little  to  leaf,"  asserted  the  senior 
major  sententiously,  animated  by  the  beauty 
of  our  guests. 

"What  a  dreadful  pun,  Major  Baldwin!" 
cried  the  pretty  blonde.  "You  deserve  five 
daysC.  B.r 

"Thank  Heaven,"  laughed  the  major,  "we 
don't  always  get  our  deserts!  We  incorrigi- 
bles  may  still,  for  a  moment 

"  'Take  the  cash  and  let  the  credit  go. 
Nor  heed  the  rumble  of  the  distant  drumT 

But  the  Colonel  interrupted  these  delightful 
inanities  by  offering  his  arm  to  Lady  Danby 
and  showing  her  to  the  seat  of  honour  on  his 
right.  The  other  ladies  were  distributed  as 
impartially  as  was  possible  amongst  the  re- 
maining twenty-four  of  us.  We  stood  for  a 
moment  with  bowed  heads  while  our  chaplain 
repeated  that  concise  but  effective  military 
grace : 

"For  what  we  are  about  to  receive,  thank 
God!"  and  then  we  took  our  seats. 

The  dinner  was  progressing  splendidly. 
Wilson  hadn't  spilled  the  soup;  Rene  hadn't 
[  168  ] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

tripped  over  the  rug;  course  after  course  had 
proceeded  under  Granger's  worried  eye  with 
daintiness  and  despatch.  The  sole  meu- 
nicrc  was  done  to  a  turn,  the  roast  pheasant 
and  asparagus  had  been  voted  superb,  and  the 
ice-cold  sahid  a  refreshing  interhide.  Even 
the  phini  pudding,  with  its  flaming  sauce,  had 
been  transported  without  accident  to  the 
guests,  when  Keggy  beckoned  with  a  motion 
of  the  head  to  Granger,  and  whispered  some- 
thing in  his  ear. 

Granger  was  the  best  lad  in  the  world  when 
he  wasn't  disturbed,  but  if  he  became  excited 
anything  migiit  happen.  The  order  was  trans- 
mitted U)  Kene,  and  in  a  moment  the  murder 
was  out.  Whether  through  misunderstanding, 
or  Rene's  secret  pride  in  its  possession,  Reggy's 
cheese  had  been  excavated,  and  before  it  was 
possible  to  interfere,  its  carcase  was  upon  the 
table! 

The  scent  of  hyacinth  and  lilies-of-the-val- 
ley  faded  on  the  instant;  the  delicate  charm  of 
poudre  dc  rh  was  obliterated  and  all  the  de- 
licious odours  of  the  meal  were  at  once  sub- 
merged in  that  wonderful,  pungent,  all-em- 
bracing emanation  from  the  cheese. 
[1G9] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

The  colonel  turned  first  red,  then  pale.  He 
cast  an  appealing  glance  at  Reggy — it  was  too 
late.  The  rest  of  us  glared  surreptitiously  and 
silently  at  the  culprit.  An  inspiration  seized 
him.  Unobserved,  he  signalled  the  mess  pres- 
ident, who  rose  to  his  feet  on  the  instant. 

"Mr.  Vice — The  King!"  he  commanded. 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen — The  King!"  came 
the  formal  but  inspiring  reply. 

The  cheese  was  forgotten.  We  were  upon 
our  feet,  and  lifting  our  glasses  we  drank  to 
our  sovereign.  Cigars  and  cigarettes  were 
passed  around,  and  we  waited  patiently  until 
the  colonel  lighted  his  cigar — for  no  one 
smokes  at  mess  until  the  O.  C.  has  set  the  ex- 
ample, or  given  his  permission.  The  offending 
element  had  been  quickly  but  quietly  removed 
from  the  table,  and  once  more  peace  and  hap- 
piness prevailed. 

But  Reggy 's  fate  as  Mess  Secretary  was 
sealed ! 


[  170  ] 


CHAPTER   XI 

The  first  line  of  a  certain  popular  song  em- 
phasises a  bold  and  truthful  platitude,  namely: 
"The  World's  growing  older  each  day."  The 
incontrovertible  fact  is  plumped  unexpectedly 
before  us,  and  blocks  our  only  exit  down  the 
passage  of  argument.  If  it  had  read:  "The 
World's  growing  smaller  each  day,"  we  might 
have  run  to  our  text-book  of  Elementary  Phys- 
ics, and,  placing  a  stubby  but  argumentative 
forefinger  on  the  Law  of  the  Indestructibility 
of  Matter,  have  proved  it  a  falsehood  of  the 
Xth.  degree.  But,  of  course,  this  must  all  have 
happened  before  the  War.  Every  one  knows 
now — every  Tommy  can  tell  you — that  the 
world  is  really  and  truly  smaller;  for,  if  not, 
how  is  it  he  meets  Bill,  or  Jake,  or  Harry  on 
the  streets  of  Popcriughc  or  Dickibiisch?  He 
knows  instinctively  that  the  world  is  shrink- 
ing, and  Halifax  and  Vancouver  may  be  found 
any  time  jumbled  togetlier  in  a  little  Belgian 
village  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  Atlantic. 
[171] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

I  hadn't  seen  Jack  Wellcombe  for  twenty- 
five  years — we  had  been  school  chums  together 
— and  his  name  had  ahnost  faded  from  the 
pages  of  my  mind ;  so  that  on  entering  the  hos- 
pital the  morning  after  Reggy's  last  dinner,  I 
received  a  slight  shock  as  I  hfted  a  new  chart 
from  the  table  and  saw  this  name  staring  up 
at  me: 

"Captain  J.  Wellcombe.  Royal  Army  Med- 
ical Corps." 

Had  the  world  really  become  so  small? 
Could  a  quarter  century  be  bridged  in  an  in- 
stant? I  seemed  to  see  the  httle  old  stone 
schoolhouse  once  again;  its  low-ceilinged  room, 
the  big  box-stove,  the  well-hacked  seats,  and 
the  rows  of  little  boys  and  girls  bowed  over 
their  greasy  slates.  The  scent  of  midday 
lunches  stowed  away  floated  back  to  me  in 
memory's  dream,  and  the  haw-tree  brushed  its 
leaves  against  the  window  pane.  I  saw  Jack 
as  he  was  then,  with  frank  blue  eyes  and  wav- 
ing golden  hair — courteous,  genial  and  big- 
hearted,  beloved  by  all;  and  I  wondered  as  I 
stood  there  if  by  any  chance  this  might  be  he. 
[172] 


THE    riKSr    CAN.VDIANS    IX    FRANCE 


The  nursing  sister  awoke  me  from  this  rev- 
erie: 'Tie  arrived  in  the  early  morning,"  she 
vohmteered,  "but  as  he  was  not  seriously  hurt 
I  didn't  call  you,  and  dressed  the  wound  my- 
self." 

It  was  with  a  feeling  of  nervous  tension  and 
expectancy  that  I  followed  her  down  the  hall 
to  his  room  and  entered.  Alas!  the  world  is 
full  of  disappointments.  It  was  not  Jack — 
this  dignified  man  with  the  touch  of  grey 
about  the  temples — but  still  the  resemblance 
grew  stronger,  the  kindly  blue  eyes,  the  same 
winsome  smile — I  wondered  still. 

We  passed  the  customary  greetings  and 
chatted  commonplaces  for  a  few  moments,  and 
all  the  time  his  face  wore  an  expression  of  puz- 
zled enquiry,  as  if  he  too  were  trying  to  recall 
some  faint  memory  from  the  past.  At  last  I 
blurted  out: 

"Are  you  by  any  chance  related  to  Jack 
Wellcombe,  of  K ?" 

"A  very  close  relation,"  he  returned  laugh- 
ingly. "I  am  his  dearest  friend;  in  fact — him- 
self. And  you — you  are  JNIac — dear  old  Mac!" 
he  cried,  stretching  out  both  hands  to  me  in  his 
[173] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

impetuous,  warm-hearted  way.  I  could  have 
hugged  him,  I  was  so  glad  to  see  him! 

"What  a  queer  game  is  Life!"  he  exclaimed 
a  moment  later.  "For  years  you  and  I  have 
been  shaken  about,  with  many  a  jolt,  in  the 
dice-box  of  the  world,  and  now,  like  two  Jacks, 
we  are  once  more  tossed  together  upon  the 
Table  of  Fate!" 

While  we  were  chatting  over  old  times,  the 
nurse  unwound  his  bandages. 

"I  hope  it  doesn't  hurt  too  much?"  I  asked 
him,  as  I  examined  his  wound  preparatory  to 
dressing  it. 

"It's  a  mere  scratch,"  he  returned  lightly; 
"a  piece  of  shrapnel  through  the  flesh  of  the 
thigh ;  but  the  surgeon  at  the  Field  Ambulance 
thought  I  should  come  back  to  hospital  for  a 
week  or  two.  Things  are  rather  noisy  around 
Ypres." 

"But  what  possessed  you  to  join  the  R.  A. 
M.  C?"  I  enquired.  "You  should  be  with  the 
Canadians." 

He  laughed.  "Oh,  you  chaps  were  too  long 
in  coming  over.  I'd  have  lost  three  whole 
months  of  the  war.  I  was  in  England  when  it 
[174] 


THE    1  IKST    CAXADIANS    IX    FRANCE 

broke  out,  and  came  over  with  the  First  Expe- 
ditionary Force." 

"You  were  in  the  retreat  from  INIons,  then!" 
I  exclaimed  in  envious  admiration. 

"Every  foot  of  it,"  he  rephed.  "That  teas 
a  fight,  you  may  well  believe.  But  the  Huns 
didn't  have  it  all  their  own  way.  I  saw  a 
strange  scrap  one  day  between  a  French  and  a 
German  battalion.  The  Huns  sprang  sudden- 
ly out  of  an  ambush  and  were  upon  the  French 
with  the  bayonet  before  you  could  catch  your 
breath.  Taken  by  surprise,  the  'poilus'  ran  for 
all  they  were  worth  for  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
— and  they  are  some  sprinters  too — the  Huns 
following  them,  shouting  like  demons.  Sudden- 
ly the  French  stopped — they  must  have  been 
running  to  get  their  second  wind — wheeled 
about,  and  with  fixed  bayonets  charged  back 
like  a  streak  of  forked  lightning  through  the 
Germans.  You  never  saw  such  a  surprised  and 
rattled  bunch  of  Huns  since  you  were  born. 
If  it  hadn't  been  so  awful  I  could  have  shrieked 
with  laughter.  But  the  French  weren't  satis- 
fied with  going  through  them  once;  they  turned 
abr)ut  and  came  back  at  them  again,  like  a  regi- 
ment of  cavalry.  The  Huns  seemed  stupefied 
[  175  ] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

with  amazement  and  terror;  they  fought  like 
men  in  a  daze,  and  very  few  ever  got  back  to 
tell  the  story  of  the  'cowardly  French  who  ran 
aWay'!" 

"We,  too,  have  underestimated  the  French, 
I'm  afraid,"  I  said.  "We  are  beginning  to 
realise  their  possibilities  as  a  fighting  force, 
and  the  Germans  aren't  yet  awake  to  their 
strength  and  determination." 

"They  fought  well  at  the  battle  of  the 
Marne,"  Jack  remarked.  "It  makes  me  smile 
still  as  I  picture  a  fat  little  French  officer  with 
drawn  sword — God  only  knows  what  he  in- 
tended doing  with  it — who  stood  behind  a  hay- 
stack waving  to  his  men  to  come  on.  He  was 
absolutely  fearless.  Again  and  again  he 
charged  up  that  steep  hill  with  the  men,  and 
when  they  couldn't  make  it,  back  he  would 
come  to  hide  behind  his  hay-stack  and  wait 
until  he  could  induce  them  to  try  it  again. 
About  the  fifth  attack  they  succeeded  and  went 
on  over  the  hill." 

I  questioned  him  about  the  battle  of  Ypres. 
(This,  of  course,  was  the  first  battle  of  Ypres 
— not  that  in  which  the  Canadians  distin- 
guished themselves.) 

[176] 


THE    FIRST    CAN.\DIAXS    IX    FRANCE 

"It  was  fast  work  at  'Wipers,'  "  he  said, 
"with  shells  falling  into  the  town  like  a  thou- 
sand roaring  devils.  They  dropped  one  into 
the  signaller's  billet.  It  tore  a  hole  in  the  side 
of  the  building  large  enough  to  march  an  ele- 
phant through,  and  killed  every  mother's  son 
of  them.  A  'Jack  Johnson'  came  through  the 
roof  of  our  hospital  and  dropped  into  the  ward 
— exit  ward !  There  wasn't  a  bed  left  standing. 
Luckily  we  had  removed  most  of  the  patients 
into  the  cellar — but  those  who  were  left  are 
still  there,  buried  in  the  ruins." 

"The  usual  German  respect  for  the  Red 
Cross!"  I  commented  bitterly. 

"The  flag  makes  a  good  mark  for  their  ar- 
tillery," he  returned,  with  a  smile;  "they  al- 
ways look  for  us." 

"You've  had  many  narrow  squeaks,  I  pre- 
sume?" 

He  laughed  merrily.  "So  narrow  that  if  I 
had  had  a  big  stomach  it  might  have  been  whit- 
tled down  to  sylph-like  proportions.  I  was 
standing  one  day  close  to  a  dug-out,  talking  to 
two  brother  officers.  The  'Whizz-Bangs'  and 
'Coal  Boxes'  were  sizzling  over  from  time  to 
time,  but  not  especially  close.  An  old  friend  of 
[177] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

mine"  (Jack  always  had  an  "old  friend"  every- 
where!) "stuck  his  head  out  of  the  dug-out  and 
shouted  up  to  me: 

"  'Drop  in  and  have  a  drink,  Jack — the 
water's  fine!' 

"I  told  him  I  was  never  thirsty  in  the  morn- 
ings. He  looked  surprised,  but  called  back 
again : 

"  'If  you'll  do  me  the  honour  to  descend,  I'll 
make  you  a  fine  long  John  Collins !' 

"  'Well,  well,'  I  said,  'as  you're  so  kind  and 
such  a  persistent  beggar,  I'll  humour  you.'  The 
other  two  officers  said  they  wouldn't  go  in,  and 
so  I  climbed  down  into  his  dug-out  and  sat 
down. 

"Just  as  I  did  so  a  big  shell  came — bang! — 
right  where  I  had  been  standing.  We  sprang 
to  our  feet  and  looked  out — the  poor  chaps  I 
had  just  left  had  been  literally  blown  to 
pieces!" 

He  lay  pensively  silent  for  a  moment  or  two, 
and  there  was  a  suspicious  glint  of  moisture  in 
his  eyes  as  he  turned  his  face  toward  the  wall. 
Then  he  turned  on  his  side  once  more,  and 
smiling  brightly  up  at  me,  murmured : 

"It's  been  a  great  lesson  to  me!" 
[178] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

"In  what  wayf'  I  queried. 

"Xever  to  refuse  a  drink!" 

It  will  take  more  than  a  world's  war  to  de- 
press Jack.  His  cork-like  spirit  will  always 
make  him  pop  up  serene  to  the  surface  of  the 
whirlpool  of  life. 

"You  know  the  Guild  Hall  at  Wipers?"  he 
exclaimed  a  moment  later. 

"No;  I  haven't  been  to  the  actual  firing  line 
yet,"  I  returned.  "The  only  time  we  realise 
there  is  a  war  back  here  is  w^hen  the  trains  of 
woimded*  come  in ;  or,  on  a  stormy  night,  when 
the  ^\ind  blows  fiercely  from  the  trenches,  and 
the  boom  of  the  great  guns  is  driven  here  inter- 
mittently with  the  gusts." 

"As  soon  as  I  can  stand  upon  this  peg  of 
mine,  you  and  the  colonel  and  I  will  motor  up 
and  see  it  all,"  he  declared,  with  assurance. 

"Agreed!"  I  cried.  "You  may  now  feel  con- 
fident of  a  speedy  recovery.  But  tell  me  more 
about  'Wipers.' '' 

He  raised  himself  on  one  elbow,  and  com- 
menced reminiscently :  "Our  dear  old  colonel 
was  Ijillctcd  in  the  tenement  row  which  used  to 
be  in  the  square  of  Ypres,  close  to  the  Guild 
[179] 


THE   FIRST   CANADIANS   IN   FRANCE 


Hall.  We  had  been  shelled  out  of  place  after 
place,  but  for  several  days  lately  Fritzie  had 
left  us  in  peace.  It  was  too  good  to  last  long. 
One  night  they  started  chucking  big  shells  into 
the  cathedral  and  what  was  left  of  the  square. 
I  counted  fifty-seven  falling  over  and  around 
the  colonel's  billet.  I  began  to  suspect  the 
place.  Taken  as  an  exhibition  of  fire-works,  it 
was  a  success,  but  as  a  health  resort  it  had  de- 
fects. 

"It  was  about  eleven  o'clock,  and  some  of  the 
houses  in  the  row  had  already  been  hit.  Ye 
gods!  Vesuvius  in  its  balmiest  days  was  like 
a  Chinese  lantern  to  this — for  a  second,  in  a 
lull,  you  would  hear  the  whine  of  a  big  shell; 
then,  crash!  it  went  into  a  building,  and  shell 
and  house  went  up  together  in  one  frightful 
smash-up. 

"I  went  over  to  wake  the  old  boy,  as  he 
showed  no  symptoms  of  having  been  disturbed. 
It  was  useless  to  rap — there  was  such  an  in- 
fernal racket  with  shells  bursting,  roofs  top- 
pling in  and  walls  falling  out.  I  stumbled  up 
the  dark  stairs  to  his  room.  He  was  sound 
asleep — think  of  it!  I  spoke  to  him,  but  he 
[180] 


"how   can    YOf?"    SHE   CRIED   INVOLUNTARILY,   "hOW   CAN    A   LITTLE 
LAD   LIKE   YOU   BEAR  TO    KILL    MEN    WITH    A    IIAYONET?" 


THE    FIRST    CAN.SDIANS    IN    FRANCE 


didn't  wake;  so   I  shook  him  gently  by  the 
shoulder  and  he  opened  his  eyes. 

'"Hello,  Wellcombe!'  he  growled,  in  his 
rough  but  genial  way.  'What  the  devil  brings 
you  prowling  around  at  this  time  of  night?' 

"I  told  him  that  I  thought  the  billet  was  be- 
coming a  trifle  unsafe,  as  some  of  the  other 
houses  in  the  row  had  already  been  hit. 

"  'Is  that  all  you  came  to  tell  me?'  he  asked, 
with  indifference. 

"I  said  it  seemed  sufficient  to  me,  and  told 
him  we  had  no  wish  to  lose  him. 

"  'Well,  well,'  he  came  back  at  me,  but  not 
unkindly,  'and  you  woke  me  out  of  a  sound 
sleep  to  tell  me  this!  Go  and  get  me  a  drink 
and  then  run  along  like  a  good  fellow  and  go 
to  bed.' 

"And  after  the  old  chap  had  his  drink  he 
thanked  me,  turned  over  in  bed,  and  I  believe 
was  sound  asleep  again  before  I  got  out  of  the 
house — while  a  continual  hell  of  fire  and  shells 
tore  the  guts  out  of  the  town  about  him !  When 
I  went  back  in  the  morning,  there  was  only 
one  house  left  standing  in  that  row — the  colo- 
nel's. The  others  were  a  crumpled  mess  of 
bricks  and  mortar!" 

[181] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

»■-  I  Mil  ■ ^^^^■^^^^^^^— ^^1 ■iiiiwi       III  ^^^m^^  II    1^  II 

I  chatted  with  him  as  long  as  I  could,  and 
then,  telling  him  I  would  drop  in  later  in  the 
day,  continued  my  rounds  on  the  wards. 

As  we  entered  one  of  the  smaller  rooms,  I 
noticed  a  bright-eyed,  red-cheeked  Scotch  lad, 
not  more  than  seventeen  years  of  age,  seated 
upon  his  cot.  He  was  chatting  animatedly 
with  several  others,  but  sprang  to  attention  as 
we  approached.  The  nurse  unwound  the  band- 
ages and  showed  me  his  wound — a  bayonet  cut 
across  the  palm.  We  had  already  heard  from 
his  comrades  that  this  slip  of  a  boy,  with  the 
smiling  eyes  and  ringing  laugh,  was  one  of  the 
finest  bayonet  fighters  in  his  battalion,  and  had 
to  his  credit  a  string  of  German  scalps  that 
would  make  a  Pawnee  Chief  green  with  envy. 
His  wound  was  the  result  of  grasping  his  op- 
ponent's bayonet  during  one  of  these  fights. 

The  nurse  looked  up  at  the  boyish  face — the 
big  blue  eyes  and  laughing  mouth — he  did  seem 
such  a  child ! 

"How  can  you,"  she  cried  involuntarily; 
"how  can  a  little  lad  like  you  bear  to  kill  men 
with  a  bayonet?" 

His  lips  parted  over  his  even  white  teeth  in 
a  broader  smile  than  ever,  but  he  flushed  deeply 
[182] 


THE    FIKST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

as  he  exclaimed:  "Oh,  ma'm,  when  ye're  in  a 
charge  an'  ye  see  them  steekin'  ycr  best  chums 
— ye  go  fair  mad — everytliing  turns  red  afore 
ye,  an'  ye  could  kill  the  whole  bleedin'  lot!" 

"Bravo!"  cried  the  little  nurse  enthusiasti- 
cally, clapping  her  hands — she  had  been  car- 
ried away,  as  I  admit  I  too  was,  by  his  sincer- 
ity and  vehemence.  "^lay  you  live  long  and 
grow  to  be  a  great  man,  as  you  deserve!" 

After  dressing  his  hand  and  the  wounds  of 
the  others,  we  passed  on  into  the  next  room, 
where  a  poor  fellow,  shot  through  the  hip,  lay 
suffering  in  heroic  silence. 

It  required  three  of  us  to  do  his  dressing, 
because,  on  account  of  the  peculiar  position  of 
the  wound,  he  had  to  be  turned  upon  his  side 
each  time,  and  with  a  fractured  hip  this  was  a 
process  of  great  difficulty.  This  wonderful  war 
has  produced  its  many  heroes,  but  when  the 
great  Recorder  above  opens  His  book  at 
doomsday.  He  will  find  the  name  of  William 
Hoare  written  large  on  the  pages  of  valour. 

Througliout  the  })ainful  dressing  Nursing 
Sister  Dolly  stood  at  liis  head,  and,  placing  her 
strong  little  arms  about  his  great  shoulders 
would   tell   him   to  lift  himself  by  her;   and 

[  183  ] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

Hoare  would  gratefully  lock  his  hands  behind 
her  neck  and  help  to  raise  himself.  What  he 
suffered,  God  only  knows!  He  made  no  sign 
of  complaint,  but  gritted  his  teeth  together  like 
a  vise  and  never  spoke  until  the  operation  was 
over.  Beads  of  sweat  stood  upon  his  brow,  and 
his  face  was  pale,  but  no  groan  had  escaped. 

"Have  a  little  brandy,  Hoare,"  Sister  Dolly 
coaxed;  "it'll  do  you  good — you  look  so  white." 
Tears  of  sympathy  stood  in  her  eyes,  but 
Hoare  smiled  bravely  up  at  her  and  said 
simply : 

"Thank  you — it  would  be  welcome." 

"You  are  a  splendid  soldier,  Hoare,"  I  re- 
marked, as  Sister  Dolly  hurried  away  for  the 
stimulant. 

"I'm  not  really  a  soldier,  sir.  I've  only  been 
a  few  months  in  the  ranks,"  he  answered.  "I'm 
a  'bus  driver  in  London." 

I  thought  to  myself :  "A  'bus  driver  in  Lon- 
don— but  a  hero  of  heroes  in  France!" 

He  raised  his  head  as  Sister  Dolly  held  the 
glass  gently  to  his  lips.  "You  are  very  kind," 
he  murmured  gratefully.  "I'm  a  deal  of  trou- 
ble to  you." 

The  little  sister  smiled  sadly  and  shook  her 
[184] 


THE    FIRST    CAN.VDIAXS   IN    FRANCE 

head,  then  without  a  word  dashed  from  the 
room. 

"I'd  have  burst  out  crying — if  I'd  stayed 
another  minute,"  she  exchiimed  impetuously, 
when  I  met  her  a  moment  later  in  the  hall. 
"I'm  a  fool,  I  know — I'm  too  chicken-hearted 
to  be  a  nurse." 

"You're  a  real  woman,"  I  ejaculated  in  gen- 
uine admiration;  "the  world  is  the  better  be- 
cause you  were  born!" 

We  then  visited  the  large  ward.  There  were 
forty  patients  in  it,  most  of  them  looking  as 
jolly  as  if  hospital  life  were  one  of  the  most 
amusing  experiences  in  the  world.  Some  were 
reading,  some  playing  cribbage,  some  of  those 
with  minor  wounds  were  helping  about  the 
ward,  and  all  were  smoking. 

But  one,  who  had  just  arrived,  looked  dan- 
gerously ill.  We  approached  his  bed,  his  green- 
ish pallor  was  alarming.  I  felt  for  his  pulse — 
it  had  disappeared.  We  gave  him  a  hypoder- 
mic at  once  to  stimulate  him,  but  we  knew  all 
too  well  he  was  far  beyond  human  aid.  He 
smiled  slightly  as  I  spoke  to  him.  His  mind 
was  clear,  with  that  preternatural  clearness 
which  heralds  death.  I  sat  down  beside  his 
[185] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

bed — it  was  screened  off  from  the  others — and 
took  his  hand. 

"Have  you  any  friends  to  whom  you  wish  to 
send  a  message?"  I  asked  him  gently. 

"Why,  doctor,"  he  enquired,  with  a  keenness 
of  perception  that  was  embarrassing,  and  look- 
ing up  at  me  with  a  glance  of  slight  surprise, 
"do  you  think  I  am  going  to  die?" 

"You  are  very  ill  indeed,"  I  replied  hesitat- 
ingly, "and  I  think  it  would  be  well,  if  there  is 
some  one  in  whom  you  are  specially  interested, 
that  you  should  write  at  once." 

He  smiled  faintly  again  as  he  looked  me  in 
the  eye  and  answered:  "There  is  only  one  per- 
son in  the  world  who  concerns  me  deeply — my 
mother;"  he  turned  his  head  away  an  instant, 
"I  have  already  written  her.  How  long  do  you 
think  I  have  to  live?" 

Even  when  one  can  answer,  this  is  always 
the  most  awkward  question  in  the  world.  No 
one  ever  gets  accustomed  to  pronouncing  a 
death  sentence.  I  shook  my  head  sadly  and 
replied:  "I  cannot  tell  you  positively — but  i 
fear  you  have  only  a  few  hours  more." 

"Well,  well,"  he  said  somewhat  indifferently, 
and  then  his  voice  became  more  interested.  He 
[186] 


THE    ITKST    CANAJ)IAXS    IX    FRANCE 

turned  back  and  asked  suddenly:  "By  the  way, 
will  you  grant  me  a  favour?" 

"I  assured  him  I  would  do  anything  in  my 
power;  but  I  was  totally  unprepared  for  his 
request.    He  spoke  eagerly: 

"Then,  may  I  have  a  bowl  of  rice  pudding?" 

Ills  sang-froid  startled  me  beyond  speech. 
Death  to  him  was  a  matter  of  small  moment — 
but  hunger  was  serious.  We  got  him  his  pud- 
ding. He  ate  it  with  relish,  and  two  hours 
later,  with  a  cigarette  between  his  lips,  his 
brave  eyes  closed  forever. 

There  was  a  bustle  in  the  hospital  that  after- 
noon. We  had  orders  to  send  two  hundred 
patients  to  England.  The  boys  were  in  a  state 
of  happy  excitement;  those  who  could  walk 
hurrying  down  to  the  pack-stores  and  return- 
ing with  all  sorts  of  wrinkled  tunics  and 
breeches,  and  with  old  boots  and  caps.  Some- 
times an  Irishman  secured  a  kilt,  and  a  "kiltie," 
much  to  his  annoyance,  was  obliged  to  wear 
breeches.  For  when  men  from  hospital  were 
returning  to  England,  although  all  their 
clothes  were  sterilised,  no  special  effort  was 
made  in  those  days  to  return  them  their  own. 
Xew  clothes  were  issued  at  home.  Those  pa- 
[187] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

tients  who  were  unable  to  get  up  were  dressed 
in  bed,  their  heads  were  encased  in  woollen 
toques,  big  thick  bed-socks  were  drawn  over 
their  feet  to  keep  them  warm,  and  they  were 
rolled  in  blankets  and  placed  in  the  hall  on 
stretchers,  ready  to  depart. 

The  nurses  had  slaved  for  hours.  Every  pa- 
tient had  been  carefully  bathed,  his  hands  and 
face  were  spotlessly  clean,  his  wounds  were 
freshly  dressed  and  he  was  wrapped  up  so 
snugly  that  the  loving  eye  of  a  mother  could 
have  found  no  fault. 

The  ambulances  were  at  the  door  once  more 
— but  on  a  different  mission  this  time — and  the 
boys,  all  smiles  and  chatter,  were  carried  out 
upon  their  stretchers  or  clambered  gleefully 
down  the  stairs.  Nurses,  officers  and  men  were 
at  the  door  saying  good-bye  to  their  patients. 
Murmured  words  of  thanks  or  gratitude  on  the 
one  hand,  and  warmest  well  wishes  on  the 
other  were  exchanged,  and  at  last,  with  much 
waving  of  caps  and  handkerchiefs,  the  convoy 
of  ambulances  started  for  the  steamer  at  Bou- 
logne, carrying  the  happy,  care-free  loads  of 
boys  another  stage  toward  home,  or,  in  Tom- 
my's own  vernacular — toward  "Blighty." 
[  188  ] 


CHAPTER   XII 

It  was  a  wild  fight  the  day  the  Germans 
broke  through  at  Givenchy;  and  the  Bosches 
were  wilder  still  when,  finding  themselves  in 
the  town,  they  were  in  considerable  doubt  what 
to  do  with  it.  Of  course  it  would  have  been 
perfectly  all  right  if  the  rest  of  their  corps  had 
followed  on  and  backed  up  the  intrepid  storm- 
ers.  But  the  enemy  had  reckoned  without  his 
host,  and  Tommy  decided  that  such  visitors 
should  be  given  a  warm  reception.  In  fact, 
they  went  so  far  in  their  efforts  at  hospitality 
that  they  entirely  surrounded  their  guests  and 
closed  the  breech  behind  them,  in  order  that 
they  might  receive  no  "draft"  from  the  rear. 

Having  thus  graciously  encompassed  them, 
Tommy  proceeded  to  kill  them  with  kindness, 
rifles,  bayonets  and  hand  grenades.  The  Ger- 
mans, greatly  bewildered  by  this  flattering  re- 
ception, would  fain  have  rested  on  the  laurels 
already  won.  Tommy,  however,  insisted  on 
[189] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

entertaining  them  still  further,  and  at  last,  de- 
spairing of  ever  satisfying  such  a  busy  host, 
th6  visitors  threw  down  their  arms  and  capitu- 
lated. 

When  we  opened  the  doors  of  the  Ambu- 
lance Train  at  Etaples  and,  instead  of  the  cus- 
tomary khaki,  saw  the  drab  coats  and  the  red- 
banded  skull  caps,  we  were  almost  as  surprised 
as  the  Germans  had  been  the  day  before. 

They  were  a  sorry-looking  lot.  Dazed  and 
bewildered  by  their  astonishing  defeat,  they 
looked  like  men  still  under  the  influence  of  a 
narcotic.  As  they  got  slowly  down  from  the 
coaches,  their  heads  or  arms  in  bandages,  they 
looked  sick — very  sick  indeed;  but  it  was  not 
so  much  with  an  illness  of  the  body  as  an  ill- 
ness of  the  mind.  They  stood  together,  silent 
and  sullen,  seeming  to  expect  ill-treatment  at 
our  hands. 

There  is  so  little  of  the  true  "sport"  in  the 
German  composition  that  they  cannot  under- 
stand that  to  the  British  war  is  still  a  game  and, 
when  the  contest  is  over,  ill-feeling  ceases.  We 
bore  no  more  enmity  toward  these  hapless  vic- 
tims of  a  malevolent  militarism  than  as  if  they 
had  been  helpless  waifs  cast  upon  our  charity. 
[190] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

This  is  not  a  matter  for  self-praise;  it  is  the 
inevitable  result  of  a  wholesome  and  broad- 
minded  upbringing.  God  knows  these  defeat- 
ed men  looked  siitKciently  dej^ressed  and  mean 
without  our  adding  to  their  brimming  cup  of 
sorrow ! 

Waiving  prejudice  for  the  moment  and  look- 
ing at  them  with  an  impartial  eye,  v/iiat  did  we 
see?  Stripped  of  tlieir  accoutrements  of  war, 
they  looked  quiet  and  inoffensive  enough,  but 
the  closely  shaven  heads  gave  them  the  ap- 
pearance of  criminals.  In  spite  of  this  handi- 
cap some  looked  to  be  decent,  reliable  chaps, 
not  so  very  different  from  our  own  men.  Some 
were  dark  and  short  of  stature ;  some  were  tall, 
broad-shouldered  and  strong.  Some  had  the 
fair  hair  and  blue  eyes  which  we  always  asso- 
ciate with  the  Saxon.  But  there  were  those 
too  W'hose  low  brows,  irregular  features  and 
cruel  eyes  indicated  an  unmistakable  moral  de- 
generacy which  boded  no  one  good. 

One,  a  corporal,  who  spoke  English  and 
acted  as  interpreter  for  his  fellows,  presented  a 
countenance  of  such  striking  malignancy  and 
low  cunning  that  the  mere  contemplation  of 
his  ugly  features — the  long  nose,  receding  fore- 
[191] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

head  and  sneaky  grey  eyes — impressed  one 
with  an  uneasy  feeling  that  no  dastardly  deed 
would  be  beneath  him.  Upon  request,  he  herded 
his  companions  into  the  ambulances,  and  as 
they  were,  with  a  few  exceptions,  but  slightly 
wounded,  a  strong  guard  was  sent  to  the  hos- 
pital with  them  to  see  that  they  should  do  no 
mischief  nor  attempt  to  escape  upon  the  way. 

When  they  arrived  at  the  hospital  and  were 
drawn  up  in  line  in  the  admittance  hall,  it  was 
perhaps  a  pardonable  curiosity  which  prompted 
the  orderlies  to  crowd  around  and  get  a  glimpse 
of  the  first  German  prisoners  they  had  ever 
seen.  The  Bosche  corporal  took  his  stand  be- 
side the  registrar's  desk  and  called  out,  in 
English,  the  names,  numbers  and  regiments  of 
each  of  the  prisoners.  Amongst  them  were 
Prussians,  Bavarians  and  German  Poles.  It 
is  difficult  to  say  how  this  medley  of  nationali- 
ties came  to  be  together. 

Sergeant  Honk  was  in  the  forefront  among 
the  orderlies,  and  perhaps  that  was  the  reason 
he  was  drawn  still  further  into  the  limelight. 
For  suddenly  a  prisoner,  putting  his  hand  into 
the  pocket  of  his  coat,  drew  forth  a  hand  gre- 
nade, and  thrust  it  at  him.  Honk  was  startled, 
[  192  ] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 


and,  jerking  his  half-extended  hand  away  with 
great  expedition,  backed  hastily  from  the  evil- 
looking  bomb. 

"  'Ere  you !"  he  gasped  excitedly,  "wot  the 
dooce  are  ye  h'up  to  now?" 

"Ein  'souvenir'  fiir  Ihnen/'  said  the  Ger- 
man, astonished  at  Honk's  precipitate  retreat. 
Honk  understood  only  the  one  word,  but  that 
was  enough. 

"H'l  down't  want  any  damn  dangerous  sou- 
venir like  that!"  he  returned  wrathfully.  "Put 
it  h'on  the  tyble!" 

The  German,  gathering  his  meaning  from 
his  actions  rather  than  Honk's  words,  did  as 
he  was  bidden,  and  stepped  back  into  line. 

"The  bleedin'  fool  might  'a'  blowed  h'up  the 
'ole  hospital,"  he  declaimed  peevishly  to  his 
companions,  "whippin'  out  'is  ])limed  h'infer- 
nal  machine  like  that;  blessed  if  h'l  wouldn't 
'a'  put  'ini  in  the  clink  fer  h'it." 

Eurnham  now  ordered  our  men  to  get  about 
their  business  and  proceeded  with  the  allotment 
of  beds  for  the  prisoners.  A  slight  difficulty 
arose  at  this  point,  as  to  their  disposal.  The 
colonel  had  decided  to  put  them  all  in  one 
ward;   but,  as  we  had   no  armed  guard,  we 

[  I'ja  ] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

thought  they  would  be  safer  if  distributed  in 
the  several  rooms.  A  number  of  them  were  so 
slightly  wounded  that,  if  segregated  in  one 
room,  they  might  easily  concoct  schemes  for 
escape  or  even  offence.  At  the  same  time,  by 
decentralising  them,  they  would  not  only  be 
under  surveillance  by  the  ward  orderlies,  but 
by  the  British  Tommies  as  well,  and  there 
would  be  little  opportunity  for  collusion.  This 
plan  was  finally  adopted.  The  Prussians  fell 
to  Reggy's  lot ;  the  Bavarians  to  mine,  and  the 
balance  were  divided  amongst  the  different 
wards. 

The  next  morning  Reggy,  who  had  studied 
in  Berlin  and  spoke  excellent  German,  when 
making  his  rounds  approached  the  bed  of  a 
tall,  fair-haired  prisoner,  whose  steely  blue  eyes 
contained  no  hint  of  welcome,  and  who,  in  spite 
of  his  good  treatment,  was  still  openly  suspi- 
cious of  us. 

After  bidding  him  guten  Morgen  and  dress- 
ing his  wound — which  was  in  the  place  we 
would  have  liked  to  see  all  Germans  "get  it," 
viz. :  the  neck,  Reggy  enquired : 

"What  do  you  think  of  the  war?    Do  you 
still  think  you  are  going  to  win?" 
[  194  ] 


THE    FIRST    CAN.VDIAXS    IN    FRANCE 

The  Prussian  looked  up  with  a  half  smile 
and  the  suspicion  of  a  sneer  curled  his  lip.  "Is 
there  any  doubt  about  it?"  he  returned. 

"There  should  be  considerable  doubt  in  your 
minds,"  Reggy  answered  warmly. 

"We  shall  win,"  the  prisoner  said,  with  im- 
perturbable coolness  and  assurance;  "the  war 
has  only  commenced,  as  far  as  we  are  con- 
cerned." 

"But  you  will  be  starved  out,  if  you're  not 
beaten  otherwise,"  Reggy  continued. 

The  shortage  of  food  in  Germany  was  one 
of  our  early  delusions  about  the  war.  The 
Prussian  laughed  amusedly — not  by  any  means 
a  pleasant  laugh. 

"If  we  do  not  grow  a  grain,"  he  replied 
scornfully,  "we  have  sufficient  food  stored 
away  to  last  us  for  three  years.  For  the  past 
ten  years  every  city  in  Germany  has  kept  a 
three-year  supply  stored,  and  only  the  oldest 
crop  has  been  used  annually."  An  illuminat- 
ing confession! 

"But  you  will  run  short  of  men,"  Reggy  per- 
sisted. 

His  patient  smiled  again  at  our  innocence. 
"We  liave  ten  million  trained  soldiers  in  re- 
[  195  ] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

serve,  who  have  not  yet  been  called  up,"  he  an- 
swered calmly. 

We  were  not  prepared  at  the  time  to  dis- 
pute the  veracity  of  these  statements,  although 
later  events  seem  to  have  corroborated  them. 

There  was  a  grim  heroism  about  this  cold- 
blooded man,  for  when  he  was  placed  upon  the 
operating  table,  although  he  must  have  suf- 
fered greatly  while  the  deeply  embedded  bul- 
let was  being  extracted  under  cocaine,  he  per- 
mitted no  groan  or  complaint  to  escape  his  lips. 
However  much  we  may  hate  the  Prussians,  or 
loathe  their  materialistic  and  unsentimental  at- 
titude toward  their  fellow  human  beings,  if 
this  man  was  a  sample,  they  are  as  well  pre- 
pared to  suffer  as  to  inflict  pain.  Proud,  dis- 
dainful and  bitter,  one  could  not  help  but 
feel  that  he  hated  us  so  thoroughly  that  should 
the  opportunity  have  occurred,  he  would  have 
killed  his  attendants  without  a  qualm  of  con- 
science. 

The  contrast  between  this  prisoner's  mental 
attitude  and  that  of  one  of  my  Bavarian  pa- 
tients was  striking.  The  latter  had  had  his  left 
arm  cruelly  shattered,  and  on  dressing  it  I  dis- 
covered a  large  ragged  wound  above  the  elbow. 
[196] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

He  spoke  no  English,  so  that  I  was  obhged  to 
use  my  indifferent  German. 

"IJ^ic  gcht  cs  dicscr  jSlorgcn?"  I  asked  him. 

''Ganz  gut"  he  replied,  as  he  looked  up  with 
a  grateful  smile  at  hearing  his  native  tongue. 
He  continued  in  German:  "The  nurses  have 
been  very  good  to  me,  but  my  arm  pains 
greatly." 

We  carried  on  a  more  or  less  desultory  con- 
versation while  the  dressing  was  proceeding, 
but,  by  dint  of  getting  him  to  speak  slowly,  I 
managed  to  understand  him  fairly  well.  Wish- 
ing to  estimate  his  frame  of  mind  as  compared 
with  the  Prussian,  I  remarked: 

"I  presume  you  feel  badly  over  being  taken 
prisoner?" 

"No,"  he  replied  slowly;  "I  am  glad.  To  us 
Germans  this  war  means  a  fight  to  the  death; 
there  are  only  two  ways  of  escape :  being  crip- 
pled for  life — or  this.  You  will  wonder  at  my 
confessing  that  I  am  glad,  but  I  have  left  be- 
hind me  in  Heidelberg  all  that  I  love  best  on 

earth — my  wife  and  two  little  children " 

His  voice  choked  and  tears  came  into  his  eyes, 

but  after  a  moment  he  sighed:    "God  knows 

[  1^J7  ] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

whether  I  shall  ever  see  them  again — for  me 
the  war  is  over — it  is  just  as  well." 

Do  you  blame  one  for  forgetting  that  this 
man  was  an  enemy?  "One  touch  of  sympathy" 
in  spite  of  the  horrors  of  war,  still  "makes  the 
whole  world  kin."  We  may  hate  the  Germans 
en  masse,  but  heart  cannot  help  going  out  to 
heart,  and  in  the  weeks  that  followed  I  con- 
fess, without  apology,  that  I  learned  to  look 
upon  this  man  as  a  friend. 

It  was  about  four  o'clock  the  following  af- 
ternoon that  Wilson  approached  me,  and,  pull- 
ing himself  up  to  attention,  said: 

"Th'  nurse  on  Saskatchewan  ward,  zur,  ses 
as  that  German  corporal  ain't  had  any  feed 
t'day." 

"Why  not?  I  asked  him. 

"Dunno,  zur,  but  he  ain't,  an'  she's  ast  me  to 
bring  th'  Orderly  Officer  to  see  him." 

We  had  laid  it  down  as  a  principle  that  Ger- 
man patients,  in  every  instance,  were  to  be 
treated  the  same  as  our  own  Tommies,  so  that 
it  was  annoying  to  hear  that  one  of  our  men 
had  been  guilty  of  Hun  tactics.  Although  I 
despised  this  corporal  more  than  any  of  the 
others,  neglect,  even  of  him,  could  not  be  coun- 
[198] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

tenanced  in  a  hospital.  I  hastened  up  the 
stairs  to  investigate.  The  nurse  corroborated 
Wilson's  statement.  The  German  had  com- 
plained to  her  that  lie  had  had  only  a  light 
breakfast  and  no  dinner,  although  the  other 
men  in  his  room  had  received  theirs. 

I  called  the  ward  orderly,  "^^lly  did  you 
not  give  this  man  his  dinner f  I  asked  him 
sternly. 

"The  meat  was  all  gone  when  I  went  for  it, 
sir,"  he  replied,  without  looking  me  in  the  eye, 
"but  I  gave  him  a  dish  of  custard." 

Evidently  the  orderly  had  made  up  his  mind 
to  punish  the  Bosche,  and  while  I  sympathised 
secretly  with  his  antipathy  to  the  individual,  I 
couldn't  condone  his  disobedience  or  the  prin- 
ciple. 

"Come  with  me,"  I  commanded,  "and  I'll 
ask  him  myself." 

We  entered  a  room  which  contained  only 
three  beds.  In  the  farthest  was  a  burly  giant 
of  a  Highlander,  in  the  middle  the  wretched 
German  corporal,  and  nearest  to  us  was  a 
Munsterite  of  prodigious  muscle  and  who  was 
but  sliglitly  wounded  in  the  leg. 

I  asked  the  German  in  English,  which  I  well 
[199] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

knew  he  understood,  whether  he  had  received 
his  dinner  or  not.  He  affected  not  to  under- 
stand me,  and  answered  in  German.  As  my 
German  is  not  as  fluent  as  my  French,  and  I 
knew  that  he  also  spoke  this  language  and 
might  have  some  secret  reason  for  not  wishing 
to  speak  English,  I  tried  him  in  French.  He 
pretended  not  to  understand  this  either.  My 
opinion  of  him  sank  even  lower.  I  tried  him 
then  in  German,  and  he  replied  quite  readily 
in  his  own  tongue. 

"I  did  not  have  any  meat,  but  I  was  given  a 
dish  of  pudding." 

"Did  you  eat  it?"  I  asked  him. 

"I  had  no  chance  to  do  so,"  he  answered. 

"Why  not?"  I  queried. 

He  turned  his  head  slowly  and  looked  first 
at  the  big  Highlander  and  then  at  the  equally 
big  Munsterite,  and  shook  his  head  as  he  re- 
plied:  "I  don't  know." 

There  was  some  mystery  here,  and  not  such 
a  deep  one  that  it  couldn't  be  unravelled.  I 
asked  the  Munsterite : 

"Did  you  eat  this  man's  pudding?" 

"No,  sir,"  he  answered  readily,  but  with  a 
[200] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

(jiieer  smile.  The  Highlander  also  answered 
in  the  negative.    There  was  still  a  mystery. 

"Do  you  kncnc  this  German  T'  I  asked  the 
man  from  ^Nlunster  and  whose  bed  was  nearest. 

''Do  I  know  him,  sir!"  he  replied,  with  a  sig- 
nificant look  directed  at  his  enemy.  "I've  seen 
that  swine  several  times.  He's  a  sniper,  and 
used  to  go  about  with  another  tall  swine  who 
wore  glasses.  We  never  could  kill  the  blighter, 
but  he  picked  off  three  of  our  officers  and 

wounded  a  fourth.    Do  I  know  him,  sir? — my 

I" 
eye ! 

Under  the  circimistances  I  couldn't  reproach 
him.  I  felt  morally  certain  he  had  stolen  the 
German's  pudding,  as  he  could  easily  have 
reached  it  from  his  bed.  I  didn't  care  to  probe 
the  matter  further,  but  warned  him  that  such  a 
breach  of  discipline  must  not  occur  again. 
After  reprimanding  the  orderly  also  for  his 
negligence — more  from  a  sense  of  duty  than 
desire,  I  admit — I  ordered  that  some  food  be 
brought  up  at  once,  and  saw  that  it  reached  its 
destination. 

We  could  not  have  punished  the  German 
worse  than  to  leave  him  in  that  room.  One 
could  easily  understand  why  he  pretended 
[  ^^01  ] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

not  to  understand  English,  for  I  am  sure  the 
remarks  which  passed  across  his  bed  in  the  days 
he  was  there  made  his  ears  tingle  and  his  mis- 
erable flesh  creep. 

After  I  had  retired  that  night,  Tim  came  up 
as  usual  to  see  that  I  was  comfortable.  Some- 
times, when  I  was  in  the  humour,  I  told  him  a 
story;  not  so  much  with  the  idea  of  enlighten- 
ing him  as  to  hear  his  comments  as  I  proceeded 
and  from  which  I  gained  much  amusement. 

"Did  you  ever  hear  of  the  mammoth  whose 
carcase  they  found  in  Siberia,  Tim?"  I  asked 
him. 

"Wot's  a  mammoth,  Maje?"  he  queried,  as 
he  seated  himself  upon  my  box  and,  crossing 
his  legs,  prepared  to  listen. 

"A  mammoth,  Tim,"  I  replied,  "is  an  extinct 
animal,  similar  to  the  elephant,  but  which  grew 
to  tremendous  size." 

"How  big?"  he  enquired  tentatively — ^his 
head  on  one  side  as  usual. 

"Oh,  taller  than  this  house,  Tim ;  often  much 
taller.  His  teeth  w^ere  nearly  as  big  as  a  hat 
box,  and  his  leg  bones  almost  as  big  around  as 
your  waist." 

[202] 


THE    riKST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

"Go  on — go  on,  I'm  a-listenin',"  he  growled 
dubiously. 

"Well,  this  mammoth  had  tumbled  over  a 
cliff  in  the  mountains  of  Siberia,  thousands  of 
years  ago,  and  falling  upon  a  glacier  was  fro- 
zen solidly  in  the  ice,  and,  as  it  never  melted, 
his  body  didn't  decay.  A  few  years  ago  they 
discovered  it,  and  dug  it  out  practically  in- 
tact." 

Tim's  eyes  were  wide,  and  his  mouth  had 
fallen  open  during  this  description. 

"Wot  more?"  he  demanded  quizzically. 

"Only  tliis,"  I  continued,  "that  everything 
liad  been  so  well  preserved  by  the  ice  that  even 
the  wisp  of  hay  was  still  in  liis  mouth." 

"Dat'll  do — dat'll  do,"  he  cried,  as  he  rose 
abruptly  to  his  feet.  "Don'  tell  me  no  more. 
I  sits  here  like  a  big  gawk  listenin'  to  dat  story 
wit'  me  mout'  open  an'  takin'  it  all  in  like  a 
dam'  fool.  An'  I  stood  fer  it  all,  too,"  he  con- 
tinued, with  remorseful  irritability,  "till  ye 
comed  to  dat  'wisp  o'  hay'  business — dat  wos 
de  las'  straw." 

"Hay,  Tim,"  I  corrected. 

"Hay  er  straw,  it's  all  de  same  to  dis  gent. 
Gees!  you  is  de  worse  liar  wot  I  ever  heard." 
[203] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

Tim's  humiliation  at  the  thought  that  he  had 
been  taken  in  was  so  comical  that  I  had  to 
laugh.  He  turned  hastily  for  the  door,  and  as 
he  passed  out  cried: 

"Good  night,  sir.  Don'  have  no  more  night- 
mares like  dat." 

The  first  faint  light  of  day  was  stealing  into 
the  room  as  I  felt  myself  tugged  gently  by  the 
toe.  I  opened  my  eyes  and  dimly  saw  Tim's 
dishevelled  head  at  the  foot  of  my  bed. 

"What  is  it,  Tim?"  I  asked,  in  some  sur- 
prise. 

"Look'ee  here,"  he  said  huskily,  "tell  me 
some  more  about  this  yere  biffalo."  And  with 
a  soft  chuckle  he  tiptoed  out  of  the  room. 

When  the  time  came  to  send  the  German 
prisoners  to  England  little  Sergeant  Mack 
was  detailed  to  guard  them.  After  a  comfort- 
able stay  for  two  weeks  in  hospital,  and  with  a 
keen  recollection  of  kindly  treatment  through- 
out, it  was  hardly  likely  they  would  attempt 
violence  or  brave  the  dangers  of  escape.  But 
Mack,  seated  in  the  ambulance  with  a  dozen 
healthy-looking  Germans,  who  could  easily 
have  eaten  him  alive  had  they  been  so  disposed, 
clutched  in  his  coat  pocket  a  little  ,22  revolver 
[204] 


THE    FIRST    CAX.VUIANS    IN    FKANCE 

which  Regg\^  had  lent  him.  He  seemed  to  ap- 
preciate the  possibihty  of  a  catastrophe  and, 
judging  by  the  uneasy  expression  on  his  good- 
natured  face,  he  had  Httle  rehsh  for  his  pre- 
carious duty. 

Even  the  ill-famed  corporal  looked  his  dis- 
appointment at  leaving  us,  and  the  others 
seemed  to  feel  that  they  would  rather  stay  with 
captors  whom  they  knew  than  fly  to  captors 
"whom  they  knew  not  of." 

The  Pole  had,  remarkable  to  relate,  learned 
to  speak  English  with  a  fair  degree  of  success 
during  his  two  weeks'  stay,  and  quite  openly 
expressed  his  regret  at  leaving.  The  others 
were  merely  silent  and  glum.  Perhaps  they 
felt  that  now  that  their  wounds  were  healed, 
like  well-fed  cattle  they  were  to  be  taken  out 
and  killed.  The  ambulance  driver  and  Ser- 
geant Honk  were  seated  in  front,  but  little 
Mack  was  alone  inside,  and  they  had  twenty 
miles  to  go. 

Nothing  of  moment  happened  until  the  am- 
bulance, threading  its  way  between  the  rail- 
road tracks  at  Boulogne,  pulled  up  upon  the 
quay  at  the  Gare  Maritime.  Here  unexpected 
trouble  arose.  No  German  prisoners  could  be 
[  205  ] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

taken  upon  the  hospital  ship ;  the  Embarkation 
Officer  refused  to  let  them  aboard.  He  said 
they  must  be  taken  back  to  the  Canadian  hos- 
pital until  a  proper  boat  was  ready  for  them. 

During  this  discussion  it  got  whispered 
about  amongst  the  populace  that  there  were 
Bosches  in  the  ambulance,  and  in  an  incredibly 
short  space  of  time  it  was  surrounded  by  an 
angry  mob  who  shook  their  fists  and  swore  sav- 
agely at  the  occupants.  Apparently  they  only 
needed  a  leader  to  urge  them  on,  and  the  Ger- 
mans would  have  been  torn  from  their  seats. 
The  prisoners  remained  quiet,  but  the  pallor  of 
their  faces  showed  that  they  realised  the  seri- 
ousness of  their  position. 

Sergeant  Mack  drew  his  little  revolver  and 
shouted  to  the  driver  to  make  haste  and  get 
away.  The  driver  needed  no  further  urging; 
the  danger  was  too  obvious.  The  car  started 
with  a  jerk  and  cleared  the  crowd  before  they 
were  aware  of  Mac's  intentions,  but  they 
shouted  wrathful  oaths  after  it  as  it  sped  up 
the  quay. 

"Blimey,  if  them  French  ayn't  got  a  bit  uv 
temper  too!"  Honk  ejaculated,  as  he  wiped  the 
[206] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

sweat  from  his  excited  brow;  "five  minutes 
more'n  they'd  'ave  'ad  them  bhghters  inside  by 
the  scrufF  uv  their  bloomin'  necks." 

Imagine  the  surprise  and  dismay  of  the 
nurses  as  they  saw  the  crowd  of  broadly  smiling 
Germans  coming  up  the  hospital  steps.  The 
nurses,  who  had  for  two  weeks  repressed  their 
natural  antipathy  to  these  men  and  had  given 
them  good  care,  felt  considerably  put  out  by 
their  return.  But  the  prisoners,  like  mangy 
dogs  who  had  found  a  good  home,  were  so  glad 
to  return  to  us  that  it  was  pitiful  to  see  their 
pleased  faces,  and  we  took  them  in  again  with 
the  best  grace  we  could  assume.  The  few  hours 
they  had  had  together  in  the  ambulance  had 
given  them  a  chance  to  compare  experiences. 
They  were  content.  All  w^e  could  hope  was 
that  our  own  boys  under  similar  circumstances 
in  Germany  would  be  treated  as  tolerantly  and 
well. 

I'hree  weeks  afterward  they  all  left  for  Eng- 
land, and  even  the  Prussian  was  almost  recon- 
ciled to  us,  for  he  said  in  parting:  "Auf  Wie- 
dersehen!" 


[207] 


CHAPTER   XIII 

The  colonel's  seven-passenger  Berliet  was 
chug-chugging  softly  at  the  villa  door,  the 
drowsy  hum  of  the  exhaust  hinting  of  con- 
cealed power  and  sjjeed.  The  colonel,  Reggy, 
Jack  Wellcombe  and  I  were  about  to  com- 
mence our  long-looked-for  trip  to  that  bat- 
tered corner  of  Belgium  which  still  remained 
in  British  hands. 

Tim  was  standing  at  the  door  with  his 
master's  "British  warm"  thrown  across  his  arm, 
waiting  for  the  colonel  to  come  out.  It  was  a 
clear  cold  February  morning,  the  air  had  in  it 
just  the  faintest  hint  of  frost,  but  not  a  breath 
of  wind  stirred  the  green  foliage  of  the  pines. 
Lady  Danby's  runabout  stood  across  the  road, 
and  from  beneath  it  peeped  a  pair  of  trim  limbs 
encased  in  thick  woollen  stockings  and  ending 
in  a  pair  of  lady's  heavy  walking  boots ;  telling 
Tim  that  her  ladyship's  dainty  "chauffeur"  was 
somewhere  there  below. 

The  "lady-chauffeur"  was  one  of  that  eccen- 
[208] 


THE    ITKST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

trie,  but  interesting,  band  of  mannish  English- 
women who  invaded  France  in  the  early  days 
of  the  war,  and  who  have  done  wonders  toward 
making  Tommy's  life  in  a  foreign  land  agree- 
able. Intelligent,  highly  educated,  remarkably 
indifferent  to  the  opinion  of  the  outside  world, 
JNIiss  Granville  was  a  character  worth  more 
than  a  i:)assing  glance.  Her  toque  was  always 
pulled  well  over  her  ears,  her  thick,  short  grey 
woollen  skirt  had  two  immense  pockets  in  the 
front,  into  which  her  hands,  when  not  otherwise 
engaged,  were  always  deeply  thrust.  A  long 
cigarette  invaria])ly  drooped  from  the  corner 
of  her  pretty,  but  determined  mouth,  and  she 
walked  with  a  swinging,  athletic  stride. 
Romance  might  have  passed  her  by  unnoticed ; 
but  the  world  could  not  ignore  her — she  was  too 
much  a  part  of  it.  Some  innate  chivalry  im- 
pelled Tim  to  step  across  and  offer  his  assist- 
ance to  the  fair  one  in  distress. 

"Kin  I  be  any  help  to  ye,  Miss?"  he  en- 
quired, as  he  stooped  down  and  peered  under- 
neath the  car  at  the  little  lady  who,  stretched 
at  full  length  upon  her  back,  was  smoking  a 
cigarette  and  at  the  same  time  screwing  home 
an  unruly  nut. 

[  209  ] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

"Oh!  Is  that  you,  Tim?"  she  remarked 
without  removing  the  cigarette  or  taking  her 
eyes  oiF  her  work.  "No,  thanks,  I  think  not — 
this  is  a  woman's  job." 

"Ladies  does  queer  stunts  in  France,"  Tim 
commented  meditatively;  "we  ain't  taken  ad- 
vantage uv  dem  in  Canada  de  way  we  ought. 
See  how  de  womens  here  carries  wood  on  dere 
backs,  an'  look  at  dem  fish-women  ketchin' 
skrimps  in  de  sea.  Gee,  de  gals  to  home  ain't 
never  seed  real  work!" 

"You  should  train  them,  Tim.  It's  all  a 
matter  of  up-bringing.  Won't  you  have  a 
cigarette?"  she  replied  as  she  thrust  a  long 
open  silver  case  out  from  under  the  car  toward 
him.  Tim  extracted  an  Egyptian  of  a  size 
such  as  he  had  never  seen  before. 

"T'ankee,  Miss — dat's  a  smoke  fer  a  prince." 

"That  was  the  intention,  Timothy,"  she  re- 
marked casually;  and  then  came  an  un- 
expected question:  "Do  ladies  in  Canada 
smoke,  Tim?" 

Tim  was  visibly  embarrassed.    "Not  sich  as 

we  calls  ladies.  Miss,"  he  stammered ;  and  then 

realising   that  he   had   made   a  fauoj  pas  he 

blundered  on — "that  is,  Miss,  I  mean  t'  say — " 

[210] 


THE    FIRST    CAN.VDIAXS    IN    FRANCE 

A  rippling  laiigli  from  beneath  the  car  cut 
short  furtlicr  explanation. 

"Tim,  Tim,"  she  cried  mockingly,  "what  a 
sad  courtier  you  would  make — you're  too  de- 
liciously  truthful." 

Poor  Tim  was  red  with  chagrin. 

"I  don'  know  wot  a  kertyer  is,"  he  replied 
defensively;  "I'm  a  hod-carrier  meself." 

"Stick  to  it,  lad,"  she  laughed,  "the  hod  lost 
one  of  its  best  exponents  when  you  came  to 
the  war." 

But  the  colonel  now  appeared  at  the  door, 
and  Tim,  with  a  hasty  adieu  to  his  fair  tor- 
mentor, sprang  across  the  road.  When  we 
were  all  snugly  tucked  in  the  car,  he  stood  for 
a  moment  looking  ruefully  toward  the  cause 
of  his  recent  embarrassment. 

"Dat's  a  queer  gent,  sir,"  he  observed  to 
the  colonel,  "dat  lady-shoffer  'cross  de  way. 
It  ain't  on'y  her  boots  wot's  like  a  man's — de 
works  in  her  belfry's  queer  too." 

Reggy  secretly  sympathised  with  Tim's  dis- 
comfiture, for  it  was  only  the  day  before,  when 
he  had  made  a  graceful  but  unavailing  whack 
at  a  golf  ball,  that  he  had  turned  to  see  her 

[ill] 


THE    FIRST    CAN^VDIANS    IN    FRANCE 

watching  him  intently — hands  in  pockets,  cig- 
arette in  mouth. 

"Rotten  stroke,  Miss  Granville?"  he  re- 
marked, to  cover  his  annoyance;  and  she  had 
coolly  blown  a  cloud  of  smoke  through  her 
nostrils  and  replied: 

"You're  dead  lucky  to  have  hit  it  at  all." 

As  the  car  moved  off  Reggy  exclaimed: 
"That's  the  sort  of  girl  who  never  gets  a  hus- 
band." 

"Why  not?"  queried  the  colonel. 

"Too  much  brain,"  Reggy  returned.  "It's 
too  humiliating  for  a  man  to  have  a  wife 
cleverer  than  himself." 

"All  depends  upon  the  man,"  the  colonel 
commented  drily.  Reggy  ventured  no  reply 
to  this  ambiguous  retort,  but  for  the  next  few 
miles  seemed  lost  in  thought. 

An  hour's  uneventful  run  brought  us  to  the 
barricade  on  the  outskirts  of  Boulogne.  It 
consisted  of  two  large  waggons  placed  at  an 
oblique  angle  across  the  road,  at  the  foot  of  a 
steep  hill.  It  was  so  ingeniously  arranged 
that  a  motor  car  could  not  pass  except  at  low 
speed.  We  were  stopped  by  the  French  guard 
who  stood  with  fixed  bayonet — that  long  slen- 
[212] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

der  wicked-looking  instrument,  the  sight  of 
which  makes  cold  shivers  run  up  and  down  the 
hack.  The  officer  emerged  from  his  little  hut, 
and  saluted  with  all  the  grace  peculiar  to  the 
true  Frenchman. 

"Voire  ' laisser- passer '  monsieur,  si'l  vous 
plais?"  he  demanded  politely. 

The  colonel  unfolded  the  large  hlue  pass, 
duly  signed  and  stamped.  It  was  scrutinised 
closely,  the  name  and  number  of  the  car  were 
recorded,  and  the  officer,  once  more  saluting, 
motioned  us  to  proceed. 

Running  a  barricade  in  France  is  not  a 
healthful  exercise.  We  did  it  once,  by  mis- 
take, but  an  immediate  rifle  shot  brought  us 
to  a  halt.  The  sentry  takes  nothing  for 
granted;  if  one  goes  through  six  times  a  day, 
the  pass  must  be  produced  each  time.  Even 
the  small  towns  of  northern  France  cannot  be 
entered  or  left  without  this  ceremony. 

We  lunched  at  Moni/s — every  English  and 
Canadian  officer  in  France  knows  the  spot — a 
small  Italian  restaurant  close  to  the  theatre, 
where  susbtantial  but  delicious  meals  pop  up 
from  the  cellar's  depths.  In  this  small  room 
with  the  sawdust-covered  floor  and  the  little 
[213] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 


glass  partitioned  stalls,  the  full-stomached  Sig- 
nor  Mony  beams  upon  a  clientele  such  as  no 
other  like  cafe  in  the  world  can  boast. 

French,  Belgian,  Enghsh;  yes,  at  times 
Italian,  Russian,  Serbian  and  even  Japanese 
officers  of  high  rank  and  ladies  whose  fame  in 
charitable  and  Red  Cross  work  is  international, 
dine  in  this  unique  cafe.  The  little  bar  is  in 
the  dining  room,  and  above  its  mahogany  top 
you  may  see  the  head  and  shoulders  of  the 
proprietor's  youthful  daughter — a  girl  of  such 
rare  and  artistic  southern  beauty  that  men  and 
women  too  stare  in  admiring  wonder. 

But  the  military  and  the  nobility  are  not  the 
only  guests.  The  crowded  cafe  distils  a 
broad  Bohemianism  which  startles  one.  At 
one  table  we  see  two  dark-eyed  "ladies-of-the- 
street"  boldly  ogling  a  couple  of  young  subal- 
terns in  khaki  who  have  just  arrived  from  Eng- 
land. Brushing  shoulders  with  the  finest  in 
the  land  the  demimondaine  quaffs  her  green 
liqueur,  powders  her  nose  and  dabs  again  the 
painted  cheek  that  riots  in  its  bloom.  At 
another  table  two  French  generals,  oblivious  to 
the  hum  about  them,  are  planning  schemes  of 
[214] 


THE    FIRST    CAN.VDIANS   IN    FRANCE 

war  too  deep  for  thoughts  of  giddy  girls  who 
seek  to  catch  their  eye. 

Above  the  glass  partition  curls  the  smoke  of 
cigarettes,  and  the  huighing  voices  of  English- 
women tell  us  who  are  there.  Upon  the 
leather-cushioned  bench  which  skirts  the  wall, 
a  handsome  Belgian,  well  past  middle  age, 
rests  his  chin  upon  the  shoulder  of  a  beautiful 
young  Russian  girl,  and  gently  puts  his  arm 
about  her  waist.  And  as  we  look  with  passing 
interest  at  the  pair,  she  takes  the  lit  cigar  from 
her  companion's  lips  and  phices  it  between  her 
own,  blowing  the  clouds  of  smoke  into  his  face. 
Every  table  but  one  is  filled.  The  blended 
murmur  of  a  dozen  different  tongues,  the  pop- 
ping of  champagne  corks,  the  rippling  laugliter 
of  the  women,  all  combine  in  one  strange  sound 
in  stranger  France.  One  thing  only  reminds 
us  of  the  outer  world.  The  mani-coloured  uni- 
forms of  soldiers  of  the  several  nations  repre- 
sented tell  us  all  too  truly  that  only  a  few  miles 
away  is  the  great  grim  battlefield  and — death. 

At  3  p.m.  we  started  once  more  on  the  road 
and  climbed  the  steep  liill  to  that  broad  high- 
way which  leads  to  Calais.  But  now  we 
reached  another  barricade,  and  an  unexpected 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

obstacle  arose.  The  sentry  regretted  with  a 
shrug  of  the  shoulders  and  both  uplifted  hands, 
but  the  road  was  under  repairs,  and  none  might 
pass  that  way. 

Jack  came  to  the  rescue  and  appealed  to  him 
in  his  inimitable  French.  Monsieur  le  Colo- 
nel with  him  was  urgently  needed  at  the 
front.  The  shortest  and  quickest  route  was 
the  only  one  for  such  an  important  man — great 
speed  was  essential  to  the  completion  of  press- 
ing duties. 

We  could  see  the  sentry  wavering.  Jack 
repeated:  "Mon  Colonel  est  hien  yresse — 
hien  presse!"  The  sentry  capitulated — of 
course  if  the  Colonel  was  presse,  there  was 
nothing  else  for  it.  He  let  us  pass.  As  we 
whirled  along  the  road,  Jack  laughed  in  that 
boyish  manner  of  his  and  exclaimed : 

"If  you're  ever  held  up  by  a  French  sentry, 
you  must  always  be  presse — it's  a  great  word ! 
If  you're  only  presse  enough  you  can  get  any- 
where in  France." 

There  wasn't  another  vehicle  but  ours  upon 
that  splendid  highway,  and  we  bowled  along 
at  tremendous  speed  through  green  fertile  val- 
leys and  through  leafless  forests,  rounding  the 
[  216  ] 


THE    FIKST    CANADIANS    IN    FKANCK 

c'lme  which  runs  to  the  southeast  from  Calais 
and  skimming  along  the  crest  of  a  low  smooth 
mountain  for  mile  upon  mile. 

AVe  soon  were  on  the  road  to  St.  Omer. 
From  time  to  time  the  noisy  whir  of  an  aero- 
plane overhead  helped  us  to  realise  that  we 
were  gradually  drawing  nearer  to  the  real 
battle  line,  and  once  on  looking  up  we  could 
see  the  giant  human  bird  at  a  great  height,  sail- 
ing above  us.  He  came  lower,  so  that  we  were 
able  to  see  the  pilot  distinctly,  and  directed  his 
course  straight  above  the  road.  At  the  time 
we  were  travelling  about  fifty  miles  an  hour, 
but  he  passed  us  as  though  we  had  been  stand- 
ing still — a  moment  later  he  became  a  mere 
speck  in  the  distance,  then  faded  into  the  mist 
beyond. 

As  we  approaclied  closer  to  the  front  we  had 
expected  to  find  the  towns  deserted  except  by 
troops.  In  this  we  were  agreeably  disap- 
pointed. As  we  entered  St.  Omer  we  found 
motors  and  waggons  by  the  hundreds  coming 
and  going  in  a  busy  rush;  every  store  was  open 
too,  and  ])usiness  was  thriving  with  a  thrift 
unknown  before  the  war.  Women  and  chil- 
dren, soldiers  and  civilians,  crowded  the  busy 
[  217  ] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

streets,  and  the  hum  of  industry  was  heard  on 
every  hand.  Here  not  many  miles  from  the 
trenches,  we  could  see  again  the  undaunted 
confidence  of  France,  implicit  reliance  upon 
her  troops,  unswerving  loyalty  to  her  ideals — • 
unutterable  contempt  for  the  possibility  of 
further  German  invasion.  It  was  a  revelation 
in  faith  and  a  stimulus  to  merit  such  whole- 
souled  unbreakable  trust. 

We  had  just  drawn  up  at  the  curb  in  the  city 
square  when  a  big  Rolls-Royce  turned  the 
corner  and  stopped  close  to  us.  It  contained 
a  man  who  wore  the  uniform  of  the  British  Red 
Cross  Society,  and  who  well  matched  the  car 
in  size;  he  descended  and  hastened  over  to 
our  car. 

"Jack!"  he  cried  delightedly,  "old  Jack 
Wellcombe;  by  George,  I'm  glad  to  see  you!" 
As  he  spoke  he  shook  Jack  warmly  by  the 
hand.  "You  and  your  friends  must  come  over 
to  the  'Bachelor's  Own'  with  me." 

Jack  performed  the  round  of  introductions, 
and  Mr.  Harman,  who  proved  to  be  an  Ameri- 
can from  Texas,  reiterated  that  we  must  come 
and  dine  with  him. 

"Thanks,  Harman,  old  chap ;  we  really  must 
[218] 


THE    FIRST    CAN.VDIAXS    IN    FRANCE 

get  along,  we  have  to  make  Poperinghe  to- 
night," Jack  protested;  but  his  American 
friend  refused  to  take  "no"  for  an  answer. 

"For,"  he  conchided,  parodying  a  Hne  from 
a  once  popular  opera,  "  'you  really  must  eat 
somewhere,  and  it  might  as  well  be  here.' 
Don't  be  in  a  hurry  to  get  to  Poperinghe,"  he 
continued.  "I  was  over  there  this  afternoon 
when  a  German  aviator  came  to  call.  Just 
as  a  preliminary,  and  in  order  to  show  his  good 
faith,  he  dropped  a  bomb  on  the  church — Some 
crash,  1  tell  you.  It  trinmied  one  corner  off 
the  tower  and  spattered  the  door  rather  badly." 

"Was  any  one  hurt?"  Reggy  enquired 
anxiously. 

"Not  at  the  moment,"  Harman  replied, 
"but  a  few  hundred  fools,  including  your  hum- 
ble servant,  rushed  into  the  square  'to  see  what 
made  tlie  wheels  go  round.'  He  hovered  over 
us  gracefully  for  a  few  moments,  waiting  to 
collect  a  good  crowd  of  spectators,  then  he 
dropped  a  big  one  right  into  the  centre  of  the 
mass." 

"Good  Lord!"  Reggy  exclaimed  in  a  horri- 
fied whisper,  "what  happened?" 

"Nothing  as  bad  as  we  deserved,  but  there 
[219] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

were  eleven  killed  and  as  many  more  wounded 
— it  was  a  horrible  sight!  You'll  see  the  ef- 
fects of  it  still  when  you  get  there,  in  the 
broken  windows  and  pieces  of  stone  knocked 
out  of  the  buildings  for  fifty  yards  around." 

We  decided  to  stay  for  dinner.  We  motored 
down  a  side  street  and  pulled  up  at  his  "Bach- 
elor's Own."  It  was  a  comfortable  French 
house  of  the  better  class,  with  floor  of  coloured 
tile  and  long  glass  doors  connecting  all  the 
down-stairs  rooms.  A  piano  and  a  grate-fire, 
around  which  a  few  leather  easy  chairs  were 
placed,  gave  the  "lounge"  an  appearance  of 
homelike  comfort — moreover,  one  might  sit 
there  and,  by  merely  turning  the  head,  see 
everything  of  interest  on  that  floor.  We 
noticed  in  the  next  room  the  table  being  spread 
for  numerous  guests,  and  a  Belgian  servant 
bustling  about  at  his  work. 

Harman  motioned  us  to  be  seated,  and  after 
offering  us  some  cigarettes,  told  us  to  "make 
ourselves  at  home"  as  he  must  warn  his  butler 
(save  us!)  of  our  arrival.  When  he  returned 
a  few  moments  later,  beaming  with  smiles,  like 
the  true  host  he  proved  to  be,  he  remarked  dep- 
recatingly : 

[220] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

"You  mustn't  expect  too  iiuieh  of  an  old 
bach's  table  in  these  rough  war-worn  days ;  but 
as  far  as  it  goes  this  is  open  house  to  every 
man  in  uniform." 

Later  in  the  evening,  when  guest  after 
guest  "dropped  in,"  until  there  were  eighteen 
of  us  in  all,  we  grasped  the  significance  of  his 
remark,  and  realised  what  his  genial  hospitality 
meant  to  the  lonely  officers  who  passed  that 
way. 

Wedidn'texpecttoo  much — in  fact  we  didn't 
expect  half  of  what  we  got.  We  hadn't  looked 
forward  to  grilled  merlin ,  roast  chicken,  ten- 
der lamb,  Jerusalem  artichokes  or  delicious 
cantaloupe,  nor  to  Gruyere  cheese  served  with 
crisp  cream-wafers.  In  our  modesty  we  had 
forgotten  to  expect  the  mellow  flavoured  wines 
wliich  clung  to  the  sloping  sides  of  glass  as 
delicate  as  a  spider's  web,  or  rich  Havana 
cigars  and  real  Egyptian  cigarettes.  No, 
strange  as  it  may  seem  to  the  casual  reader, 
we  hadn't  expected  any  of  these  things;  we 
were  prepared  for  Bologna  sausage  and  a  can 
of  sardines,  but  in  these  we  were  disappointed. 
A  whirlwind  of  plenty  rose  at  Harman's  magic 
call,  and  cast  us  adrift  upon  a  sea  of  luxury. 
[221] 


THE    FIEST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

Towards  the  close  of  this  splendid  repast,  I 
took  occasion  to  ask  our  benevolent  host  to 
what  particular  branch  of  the  Red  Cross  work 
he  was  devoting  his  energies. 

"Just  what  you  see,"  he  answered  with  a 
laugh.  "Cheering  up  dull  dogs  like  Well- 
combe  here,  as  they  pass  upon  their  weary 
way — that's  about  all." 

"He's  talking  bally  rot!"  cried  Jack  from 
his  end  of  the  table,  "I'll  tell  you  what  he  does, 
as  he  won't  tell  you  himself.  He  feeds  the 
hungry  and  the  poor;  he  gives  all  kinds  of 
delicacies,  from  pickles  to  pheasants,  to  the 
wounded  and  sick  soldiers  in  the  Field  Ambu- 
lances and  hospitals  for  miles  around;  he  car- 
ries food  and  drink  to  the  wounded  Tommies 
in  the  trenches  and  the  Dressing  Stations. 
I've  seen  him  steal  out  upon  the  battlefield 
in  a  perfect  hell  of  machine  gun  bullets  and 
shrapnel — places  where  the  devil  himself 
wouldn't  venture  or  expect  to  get  out  alive — 
and  carry  back  those  poor  shattered  lads  in  his 
arms.     He — " 

"Jack,  Jack,"  Harman  cried  in  protest,  "for 
heaven's  sake  have  a  little  pity — I  can't  live 
up  to  a  rep'  like  this!" 

[222] 


THE    riHST    CANADIANS    IN    TRANCE 

"Don't  interrupt,  please!"  Jack  commanded. 
'One  word  more  and  then  I'm  through.  He's 
been  a  perpetual  Santa  Clans  to  every  boy  at 
the  front,  and  a  godsend  to  every  man  in  the 
rear — a  danni  good  fellow  and  a  man."  lie 
had  risen  to  his  feet  and  struck  the  table  with 
his  hand  in  his  earnestness.  "Here's  a  toast 
for  you,  my  comrades  in  arms,"  he  cried  in  con- 
clusion: "Here's  to  Harman — Harman  the 
Red  Cross  hero  of  St.  Omer!" 

As  one  man  we  rose  to  our  feet  and  drained 
our  glasses  dry. 

After  dinner  we  crowded  into  the  lounge, 
and  Jack  sat  down  at  the  piano.  With  nimble 
fingers  he  drew  soft  music  from  the  keys.  We 
soon  discovered  we  were  in  a  nest  of  artists, 
drawn  together  by  a  common  tie. 

Little  Watkins,  another  Red  Cross  driver, 
who,  as  we  afterwards  learned,  had  risked  his 
life  a  score  of  times  to  help  some  wounded  fel- 
low on  the  treacherous  road,  sang  for  us.  It 
seems  but  yesterday  that  we  sat  there  in  the 
smoke-filled  room,  listening  with  rapt  attention 
to  his  silvery  tenor  voice.  The  flames  from 
the  fire  lit  u})  his  face  as  the  throbbing  notes 
poured  forth.  Jc  sais  que  vous  etes  jolie; 
[•.'•23] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

we  know  now  why  he  sang  so  well — he  was  in 
love.  Poor  Watkins  has  many  months  since 
passed  to  the  "great  beyond,"  but  the  sweet 
pathos  of  his  voice  still  lingers  in  the  ears  of 
those  he  charmed  that  night. 

Kennerly  Rumford  was  then  called  upon — 
yes,  the  world-renowned  Kennerly  Rumford, 
in  khaki  in  a  little  room  in  St.  Omer — and  in 
that  magnificent  baritone  of  his  filled  the  house 
until  it  rocked  with  glorious  sound.  Rich,  deep, 
rolling  melody  welled  up  from  his  great  chest, 
until  the  wonder  of  it  struck  us  dumb.  I  looked 
about  me ;  pipes  rested  unused  upon  the  table ; 
cigarettes  had  been  cast  away,  and  the  cigars, 
forgotten  for  the  nonce,  were  dead. 

We  were  loathe  to  leave  this  house  of  enter- 
tainment, but  time  was  pressing,  and  we  still 
had  many  miles  to  go. 

The  streets  were  black  as  pitch;  no  lights 
were  permitted  in  the  war  zone,  but  at  last  we 
found  our  way  out  of  the  town,  and  started. 


[224] 


CHAPTER   XIV 

As  we  sped  along  the  road  to  Poperinghe, 
the  headlights  of  our  car  made  a  lone  streak  of 
white  against  the  utter  blackness  of  the  outer 
world.  Occasionally  on  the  wings  of  the  wind 
came  the  boom  of  the  big  guns,  followed  a  mo- 
ment after  by  the  sharper  crash  of  the  burst- 
ing shells.  The  barricades  became  more  nu- 
merous, and  from  time  to  time  we  were  halted 
by  a  British  sentry  and  our  passes  were  scru- 
tinised with  especial  care. 

It  was  about  ten  p.m.  when  we  crept  softly 
through  the  outskirts  of  the  little  Belgian  town 
which  marked  our  destination  for  the  night. 
We  pulled  up  at  a  small  hotel,  less  than  a  hun- 
dred yards  from  the  spot  where  the  German 
aviator  had  wrought  such  havoc  that  after- 
noon. The  stone  walls  of  the  buildings  about 
were  marked  with  holes,  which  showed  up 
plainly  in  the  light  from  the  car,  and  the  cob- 
blestones for  several  yards  around  were  splin- 
tered. 

[225] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FEANCE 

As  is  the  case  with  most  small  hostels  in 
northern  France  and  Belgium,  the  door 
through  which  we  entered  opened  directly  into 
the  bar.  The  blaze  of  light  within,  well 
screened  off  from  the  street  by  heavy  curtains, 
dazzled  our  eyes,  and  the  crowded  room  with 
its  round  marble-topped  tables  was  heavy  with 
smoke.  The  ever-smiling  bar-maids  were  hav- 
ing a  busy  time.  Bottles  of  whiskey  and  soda, 
beer  or  wine,  stood  upon  every  side,  and  the 
clink  of  glasses  intermingling  with  the  clatter 
of  foreign  tongues,  fell  upon  our  ears.  The 
soft,  sibilant  French,  the  cockney  English  and 
the  guttural  Flemish  warred  with  one  another 
in  an  unintelligible  babble. 

Jack  seemed  as  much  at  home  here  as  ever. 
The  pretty  blonde  bar-maid,  the  daughter  of 
the  house,  came  forward  to  greet  him,  and 
shook  him  warmly  by  the  hand.  She  assured 
him,  and  us,  that  "M'sieu  le  Capitaine  was 
toujours  le  hien  venu/'  In  fact,  we  were  made 
so  welcome  that  we  were  shown  forthwith  into 
a  private  room,  the  better  to  avoid  the  noise  and 
smoke  of  the  bar. 

"What  are  the  prospects  of  a  bed  or  two 
for  four?"  Jack  asked  the  Belgian  lassie. 
[226] 


THE    ITKST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

jNIademoiselle  was  dcsolc,  but  she  feared  the 
prospects  were  hicn  mal — in  other  words,  nil. 
She  woukl  enquire  across  the  way,  however, 
and  see  if  any  of  the  liouses  round  about  could 
still  boast  an  empty  bed.  She  returned  shortly, 
more  dcsolc  than  ever.  What  with  the  thou- 
sands of  Belgian,  French  and  English  troops 
billeted  in  the  town,  there  was  not  a  vacant 
room  left.  She  would  give  up  her  own  room 
for  monsieur,  but  hclas,  it  was  so  petite  there 
was  only  accommodation  for  one. 

Reggy  laughed.  When  Reggy  could  laugh 
at  the  prospect  of  no  bed  for  the  night  the  sit- 
uation must  have  been  amusing.  "Colonel, 
you'll  have  to  take  the  bed,"  he  cried,  "and  the 
rest  of  us  can  sleep  in  the  car." 

"No,  no,"  Jack  protested;  "we  must  all  be 
together.  We'll  take  a  run  up  to  the  convent 
and  see  wliat  Sister  Paulo  has  to  say." 

"Good  Lord!"  laughed  the  Colonel.  "You 
i\o\\\  suppose  a  nun  is  going  to  house  four 
strange  officers  for  the  night,  do  you?" 

"All  things  are  possible — in  Belgium,"  Jack 

returned.      "You  d(jn't  yet  know  the  size  of 

the  Belgian  heart.     Sister  Paulo  and  I  are  old 

friends.      1    had   tlic   pleasure  of  bringing  her 

[  -'-'T  ] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

and  several  other  Sisters  of  Charity  out  of 
Ypres  one  night  last  fall,  during  the  bombard- 
ment. The  Bosches  had  killed  some  of  them 
and  shot  their  poor  convent  full  of  holes.  Sis- 
ter Paulo  gave  me  this  silver  crucifix  as  a  me- 
mento of  the  occasion."  He  held  up  for  our 
inspection  an  exquisite  little  cross.  "I  have  al- 
ways carried  it  since — she's  a  good  sort;  more 
woman  than  nun." 

"If  I  should  die  and  by  mischance  arrive  in 
Hades,"  cried  the  colonel,  "I  hope  you'll  be  in 
heaven,  for  I'm  sure  you'll  have  enough  pull 
with  St.  Peter  to  get  me  up!" 

As  we  crossed  the  dark  square,  crowded  as 
it  was  with  troops  of  the  three  nations  on  their 
way  to  and  from  the  trenches,  we  could  hear 
distinctly  the  rattle  of  artillery  and  the  burst- 
ing of  the  German  shells,  not  many  miles  away. 
A  mischievous  gun  might  have  dropped  a  shell 
into  that  square  at  any  moment — we  wondered 
why  it  didn't.  There  could  be  only  one  reason. 
No  humanitarian  consideration  ever  deterred 
the  German;  but  the  town  was  so  full  of  spies 
that  it  would  not  have  been  good  business  to 
bombard  it.  A  few  months  later,  when  the 
spies  were  all  eliminated,  the  long-range  Ger- 
[228] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

man  guns  soon  made  short  work  of  Poper- 
inghe. 

^Ve  arrived  at  a  two-storey  brick  buikling, 
and  after  a  lengtliy  pull  at  the  bell-rope  the 
door  was  slowly  opened  a  little  way.  Jack  en- 
quired for  Sister  Paulo,  and  upon  giving  his 
name,  the  door  was  immediately  thrown  wide 
and  we  were  ushered  into  a  small  waiting-room. 
We  had  scarcely  seated  ourselves  when  a  tall 
nun,  with  saint-like  face  and  frank  smiling  eyes 
entered  the  room.  She  recognised  Jack  at 
once  and,  holding  out  both  hands  in  greeting 
to  him,  exclaimed  in  excellent  Knglish: 

"iSIy  dear  Capitaine!  How  glad  I  am  to 
see  you  once  more — you  are  as  welcome  as  your 
name." 

"These  are  some  very  dear  friends  of  mine, 
Sister  Paulo,"  Jack  cried,  after  he  had  intro- 
duced us  individually,  "and  we  have  come  to 
you  in  distress — we  poor  sons  of  men  have  no 
place  to  lay  our  heads." 

"Ah!"  said  Sister  Paulo,  with  a  gracious 
smile,  "perhaps  we  shall  now  have  an  opportu- 
nity of  doing  you  a  little  kindness  for  your 
many,  many  goodnesses  to  us."  She  turned 
tousandcontinued:  "You  see,  Capitaine  Well- 
[229] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

combe  risked  his  life  to  save  ours.  He  came  to 
our  Convent  in  Ypres  during  the  night  of  that 
frightful  battle,  when  the  shells  were  falling 
in  thousands  about  us,  and  the  city  was  in  ruins. 
One  bip"  shell  tore  through  the  wall  and  fell 
into  the  building — I  shall  never  forget  the 
horror  of  that  night!  The  streets  were  lit  up 
by  fires,  and  the  noise  was  awful  beyond  words. 
We  were  distracted — we  seemed  to  have  been 
forgotten  by  every  one,  when  suddenly  Cap- 
tain Wellcombe  came  like  an  angel  from  above 
and  climbed  in  through  the  rent  in  the  wall. 
One  by  one  he  carried  us  out  in  his  arms  and 
put  us  in  an  ambulance.  He  took  us  through 
those  dreadful  streets  and  brought  us  here  to 
safety.  He  is  a  brave  man,  and  every  night  we 
pray  for  his  protection." 

For  once  in  his  life  Jack  looked  embarrassed, 
and  blushed  like  a  school-girl.  "Sister  Paulo 
exaggerates,  I'm  afraid,"  he  said,  in  some  con- 
fusion. "It  seemed  more  dangerous  than  it 
really  was." 

"You  may  make  light  of  it,  if  you  wish,  my 
dear  Capitaine,"  Sister  Paulo  replied,  holding 
up  a  reproving  finger,  "but  you  can  never  make 
[230] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

it  to  US  less  than  the  act  of  a  brave  and  noble 
man ! 

She  left  us  for  a  space,  but  shortly  returned 
to  tell  us  that  our  rooms  were  ready  and  that 
we  were  thrice  welcome  to  what  accommodation 
their  poor  house  afforded.  We  were  ushered 
upstairs  and  along  a  narrow  hall  in  which  we 
met  several  Belgian  officers,  who  bowed  low  as 
we  passed.  Jack  was  given  a  small  room  to 
himself. 

AVhen  Reggj^  and  the  colonel  and  I  arrived 
at  the  room  which  was  pointed  out  as  ours  for 
the  night  we  met  a  tall  Belgian  officer  coming 
out  of  it.  We  grasped  the  situation  on  the 
instant.  These  officers,  who  had  been  hastily 
aroused,  were,  with  their  remarkable  courtesy 
and  native  hospitality,  actually  giving  up  their 
beds  to  us.  Tlie  others  had  already  disap- 
peared down  the  stairs,  and  this  officer  too 
would  have  passed  us  witli  a  bow,  but  we  ar- 
rested him  and  protested  that  he  must  on  no 
account  deprive  himself  of  his  room. 

"But  you  are  not  disturbing  me  in  the  least," 
he  replied  in  French;  "you  are  doing  me  a 
great  pleasure  by  accepting  my  bed." 

We  assured  him  that  we  should  be  able  to 
[  231  ] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

find  accommodation  somewhere,  and  that  we 
1  felt  very  guilty  for  having  been  the  cause  of  so 
much  inconvenience. 

"My  dear  sirs,"  he  protested  feelingly, 
"there  is  but  a  very  small  corner  of  Belgium 
left  to  us;  there  is  so  little  opportunity  for  us 
to  offer  hospitality  to  a  guest,  that  when  such 
an  occasion  as  this  arises  where  we  have  the 
honour  of  accommodating  our  English  friends 
— it  would  be  unkind  if  you  denied  us  this  poor 
privilege." 

We  could  not  doubt  his  sincerity,  and  felt 
that  he  would  be  hurt  if  we  made  any  further 
protest.  Where  he  was  to  sleep  we  did  not 
know;  but  we  thanked  him,  and  after  bidding 
him  honsoir,  passed  inside.  There  was  a  sin- 
gle and  a  double  bed  in  the  room.  The  tables 
were  strewn  with  swords,  revolvers,  field 
glasses,  prismatic  compasses  and  all  the  usual 
accoutrements  of  military  officers.  It  was  evi- 
dent the  room  had  been  vacated  hastily. 

The  single  bed  naturally  fell  to  the  lot  of 
the  colonel,  while  Reggy  and  I,  being  a  trifle 
smaller  than  he,  clambered  into  the  other — a 
high,  old-fashioned  one.  Reggy  sank  wearily 
into  the  feather  mattress  and  fell  asleep  as  soon 
[232] 


THE    FIRST    CAX^VDIAXS    IN    FRANCE 

as  his  head  touched  the  pillow.  He  had  the 
happy  faculty  of  being  able  to  sleep  anywhere 
and  at  any  time. 

We  were  to  make  an  early  start,  and  six 
a.m.  came  all  too  soon.  A  light  French  break- 
fast was  prepared  for  us  when  we  descended. 
About  an  hour  later,  after  expressing  our  deep 
thanks  to  our  gracious  hostess,  we  got  into  the 
motor  once  more  and  started  on  the  road  to- 
wards Ypres.  There  wasn't  a  cloud  in  the  sky. 
The  sun  shone  brightly,  and  not  a  warlike 
sound  broke  tlie  stillness  of  the  clear,  cool  air 
as  we  sped  along  between  the  tall  poplars 
which  lined  the  road.  One  thing  only  reminded 
us  that  we  were  approaching  close  to  the  battle 
line — the  reserve  trenches  dug  on  either  side. 
These  we  passed  from  time  to  time;  but  they 
were  half  full  of  water  and  uninhabited,  and  it 
was  apparent  tliere  was  little  thought  of  their 
ever  being  needed. 

Here  and  there  a  few  horses  were  tethered 
in  poor  canvas-covered  shelters,  and  in  the 
farmyards  near-by  we  saw  numbers  of  French 
military  waggons  which  looked  like  gipsy  carts. 
Occasionally  we  overtook  a  battalion  of  French 
or  Belgian  troo})s  marching  (juictlv  towards  the 
[  233  ] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 


trenches.  Their  apparent  absence  of  any  defi- 
nite marching  formation  struck  us  with  sur- 
prise. They  did  not  walk  in  Hne,  but  ambled 
along  of  their  own  free  will ;  some  with  loaves 
of  bread  or  rolls  strapped  to  their  knapsacks, 
and  one  carrying  a  roast  of  beef  under  his  arm. 
They  seemed  to  have  foraged  for  themselves, 
and  carried  along  any  extras  which  appealed  to 
their  individual  fancy.  But  they  were  a  tall, 
stalwart-looking  body  of  men,  and  we  felt  sure 
were  much  better  trained  than  their  irregular 
march  would  indicate. 

We  had  reached  a  point  about  midway  be- 
tween Poperinghe  and  Ypres.  The  morning 
was  still  soundless,  save  for  the  whir  of  our 
motor. 

"Looking  at  this  blue  sky  and  the  quiet 
fields,  who  would  ever  believe  there  is  a  war  so 
near?"  Reggy  remarked. 

These  words  had  no  sooner  fallen  from  his 
lips  than  the  air  was  suddenly  rent  with  the 
blast  of  gun  after  gun,  so  close  on  our  right 
that  we  were  startled  and  instinctively  jumped 
towards  the  left  of  our  car.  The  sharp  burst- 
ing of  shells  over  our  heads  impelled  us  to  look 
[234] 


THE    FIRST    CAN.U)IANS    IN    FUAXCE 

up,  and  there  directly  above  us  was  a  German 
aeroplane. 

Shell  after  shell  burst  below  hiin,  leaving 
rounded  clouds  of  white  smoke  hanging  in  the 
still  air,  and  as  each  exploded  the  aviator  rose 
liigher  and  higher.  The  range  of  the  guns  grew 
longer;  some  shells  burst  above  him;  some  to 
right  or  left.  Round  after  round  of  shrapnel 
followed  his  every  movement.  We  looked  in 
vain  for  the  battery.  They  were  so  carefully 
hidden  that  although  we  could  not  have  been 
fifty  yards  away,  there  was  not  the  slightest 
visible  sign  to  indicate  their  position. 

xVt  the  same  time  the  w^hirring  rat-tat-tat-tat 
of  a  machine  gun  close  beside  us  on  the  left 
made  us  turn  our  heads  sharply  in  that  direc- 
tion. At  first  we  could  not  see  this  gun  either, 
but  guided  by  the  sound  we  soon  discovered  it 
on  a  platform  halfway  up  the  outside  of  a 
farmhouse,  against  the  wall,  and  manned  by  a 
French  soldier.  We  watched  the  aviator  with 
the  same  interest  that  a  quartette  of  hunters 
might  view  some  great  bird,  hoping  to  see  him 
winged.  But  lie  seemed  to  bear  a  charmed  life, 
and  dodged  shrai)nel  and  machine-gun  bullets 
alike,  soaring  higher  and  higher  until  he  be- 

[  2:i.5  ] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

came  a  mere  speck  in  the  heavens.  Then  the 
firing  ceased  as  abruptly  as  it  had  commenced. 

Our  car  had  been  stopped  during  this  one- 
sided battle,  but  now  that  it  was  over  we  started 
on  again.  The  cobblestone  road  had  been  torn 
up  by  shell  fire  in  many  places,  and  driving  was 
rough  and  difficult.  We  passed  batteries  of 
artillery  and  long  lines  of  army  service  wag- 
gons, wending  their  way  Ypres-ward.  There 
was  no  further  firing  for  the  present  and  we 
crossed  the  bridge  over  the  Yser  and  entered 
the  town  without  mishap.  From  the  distance 
there  was  little  change  to  be  noticed  in  Ypres ; 
but  now  that  we  entered  the  streets  we  soon 
saw  the  effects  of  the  bombardment.  For  the 
most  part  the  smaller  houses  had  not  at  this 
time  been  destroyed;  but  every  large  building 
in  the  place  was  in  ruins.  Churches,  convents, 
schools  and  factories  had  been  ruthlessly 
crushed,  and  the  railway  station  was  levelled  to 
the  earth.  The  streets  were  almost  deserted, 
shops  were  long  since  closed,  and  business  was 
dead. 

We  arrived  at  La  Grand  Place — once  the 
scene  of  a  busy  market,  and  stood  beside  the 
ruins  of  the  famous  Guild  Hall.  Its  roof  had 
[236] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

fallen  in;  the  walls  were  shattered;  piles  of 
stones  and  mortar  had  tumbled  into  the  street. 
The  clock  tower  alone,  as  if  in  defiance  of  the 
German  gunners,  stood  erect  and  the  clock  re- 
mained untouched.  A  dead  horse  lying  close 
by  upon  the  pavement  reminded  us  that  we 
were  now  within  easy  reach  of  the  enemy's  fire. 

We  turned  and  walked  across  to  the  Cathe- 
dral of  St.  ^lartin ;  a  short  time  since  the  pride 
of  that  beautiful  city.  Alas!  it  too  was  lost. 
We  clambered  over  the  ruins  and  got  upon  the 
window  ledge  to  look  within.  The  priceless 
panes  were  gone;  the  marble  floor,  except  in 
patches  here  and  there,  was  buried  deep  and 
the  great  supporting  columns  of  the  dome  had 
toppled  over;  one  lay  across  the  nave,  its  round 
flat  stones  still  clinging  obliquely  together  and 
lying  like  roulcau.r  of  coin  side  by  side.  The 
sacrilegious  shells  had  burst  into  the  chapel  of 
tlie  Holy  Sacrament,  had  desecrated  the  altar 
and  piled  huge  heaps  of  masonry  upon  the 
fl(jor.  The  crucilix  had  disappeared,  but  the 
statues  of  the  saints,  by  some  strange  miracle, 
remained  intact. 

From  the  torn  paintings  upon  the  walls  the 
faces  seemed  to  liave  turned  appealingly  to- 
[  237  ] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

ward  the  open  roof,  their  gaze  fixed  as  in  a  last 
pitiful  prayer  to  heaven.  They  were  lost — 
those  wondrous  works  of  Art  which  once  with 
magic  charm  had  held  the  world  enthralled. 
Never  again  would  humanity  come  to  bow  in 
humble  admiration  at  that  shrine  of  beauty,  nor 
gather  inspiration  from  the  hallowed  walls. 
And  as  we  looked  upon  the  wreck  about  us, 
now  but  the  memories  of  an  irrestorable  past, 
our  bitter  thoughts  travelled  across  the  lines 
of  trenches  to  that  strange  race  to  whom  no 
neighbour's  hall  or  home  is  sacred  and  to  whom 
the  work  of  centuries,  the  irreplaceable  monu- 
ments of  master  minds,  are  naught. 

As  we  looked  again  upon  those  time-hon- 
oured, tottering  walls  the  great  jagged  holes 
seemed  to  cry  out  to  us  for  revenge,  and  a  sud- 
den just  but  implacable  anger  against  the 
perpetrators  of  these  hideous  world-crimes 
stormed  within  our  hearts  and  choked  our  ut- 
terance. 

With  a  sigh  we  turned  from  the  contempla- 
tion of  this  scene  of  wanton  destruction  and 
started  our  walk  through  the  desolate  streets. 
Crossing  the  JMenin  road,  we  entered  that  lit- 
tle graveyard  where  so  many  of  our  brave  men 
[238] 


THE    rilJST    CAXADIAXS    IN    FRANCE 

lay  buried.  The  houses  round  about  lay  crum- 
bled, but  this  sacred  spot,  by  accident  or  design, 
had  been  spared.  As  we  passed  bareheaded 
down  the  path  between  rows  of  closely  crowded 
graves,  the  new-made  wooden  crosses  seemed 
to  lift  their  white  arms  to  us  in  mute  appeal. 
Here  and  there  the  cap  of  some  once  gallant 
French  or  Belgian  officer  hung  upon  his  cross 
— a  crown  of  glory  that  no  mortal  hand  dare 
touch.  Some  of  these  caps  had  rested  there 
for  months,  rotted  by  rain,  torn  by  the  wind, 
faded  by  the  sun — but  dyed  with  a  glory  which 
time  could  never  dim,  and  emblazoned  with  the 
halo  of  self-sacrifice.  And  as  we  stood  there 
upon  the  threshold  of  the  battlefield  we  saw 
the  conflict  in  a  clearer  light — behind  us  faith 
and  patriotism;  in  front  patience  and  heroism, 
and  at  our  feet  self-sacrifice  and  deathless  love. 
A  great  wreatli  of  purple  leaves  lay  upon 
the  grave  of  a  young  prince,  clinging  lovingly 
to  the  new-made  mound.  He  rested  there  side 
by  side  with  his  humbler  fellows — they  had 
fouglit  and  died  together.  We  sometimes  for- 
get tint  a  prince  is  human;  he  seems  so  far 
above  us — he  lives  in  a  different  sphere  and 
appears  to  ])e  cast  in  a  different  mould.  But 
[  2.30  ] 


THE    rillST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

when  we  stand  beside  his  grave,  we  realise  at 
last  that  he  was  but  a  mortal  like  ourselves; 
that  he  has  lived  his  life  like  us — the  same  de- 
sires, the  same  ambitions  and  the  same  need  for 
love.  Only  one  word  was  entwined,  in  white 
letters,  with  the  purple  leaves ;  only  one  word, 
but  it  bridged  two  countries  and  two  souls — 
heaven  and  earth  were  joined — for  the  small 
white  flowers  clinging  together  spelled  the 
magic  name  of  ''Mother."  We  may  fall  un- 
noticed in  the  thick  of  battle,  we  may  be  buried 
with  a  host  of  comrades  in  a  nameless  grave, 
but  a  mother's  heart  will  seek  us  out,  no  mat- 
ter where  we  lie,  and  wrap  our  lonely  souls 
about  with  the  mantle  of  her  undying  love. 

"You  have  seen  both  ends  of  a  battle  now — 
the  hospital  and  the  graveyard,"  Jack  ex- 
claimed, as  we  left  the  cemetery;  "come  with 
me  and  I  will  show  you  what  it  is  like  to  be  in 
the  middle." 

"Can't  we  take  a  little  walk  along  this  road, 
and  see  the  first  line  trenches?"  Reggy  en- 
quired. We  were  crossing  the  Menin  road 
again  at  the  moment. 

Jack  laughed.  "Not  if  you  wish  to  come 
further  with  us.  If  you  step  out  of  this  shel- 
[  240  ] 


THE    FIRST    CAX.VDIANS    IN    FRANCE 

ter  in  daylight  tliere  won't  be  any  Reggy  to 
brighten  our  trip.  Xo  one  goes  out  there  in 
daylight — that  is,  if  he  wishes  to  attain  old 
age." 

"But  it  seems  so  quiet  here,"  Reggy  pro- 
tested. "Apart  from  broken-down  buildings, 
I  can't  see  a  sign  of  a  war — there  isn't  a  soul 
in  sight  but  ourselves." 

"Jolly  good  reason,"  Jack  replied.  "If  you 
take  a  peep  through  the  hedge  there  you'll  see 
the  trenches — we're  as  close  as  we  dare  go  at 
present." 

Reggy  looked  disappointed.  "There  isn't 
even  a  gun,"  he  complained. 

It  seemed  as  if  the  invisible  gunners  had 
heard  him,  for  suddenly  the  fields  round  about 
us  sprang  to  life  and  belched  forth  smoke  and 
shells.  Some  cannon  in  the  dark  shade  of  the 
bushes  were  actually  so  close  that  we  could  see 
the  streak  of  flame  from  the  muzzle  light  the 
shadow.  The  Germans  were  not  slow  to  retal- 
iate, and  in  a  fevr  minutes  the  roar  of  their  guns 
and  the  howl  and  crash  of  shells  added  to  the 
general  clamour.  Fortunately  they  did  not 
appear  to  have  our  range,  and  the  shells  fell  far 
afield. 

[241] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FEANCE 

"That's  what  you  brought  down  upon  us— 
you  doubting  Thomas,"  Jack  remarked  face- 
tiously to  Reggy.  "You've  started  a  nice  row 
now  that  will  last  for  hours." 

"Isn't  this  great!"  Reggy  cried  like  a 
pleased  child.  "I  wouldn't  have  missed  this  for 
a  million." 

"I  hope  Fritzie  will  miss  you  for  less," 
laughed  the  colonel,  "or  we'll  be  short  an  ex- 
Mess  Secretary." 

Reggy  vouchsafed  no  reply  to  this  hope. 

"We'd  better  get  along  out  of  this,"  Jack 
said;  "the  Bosches  may  discover  their  mistake 
before  long  and  pour  a  little  shower  of  hate 
on  us." 

We  got  into  the  motor  and  started  towards 
the  Dickibusch  road.  At  Jack's  request  we 
stopped  for  a  few  minutes  at  the  ruins  of  a 
large  schoolhouse  which  had  comprised  one 
city  block.  The  semblance  of  a  building  re- 
mained, but  the  walls  stood  only  in  jagged 
patches. 

"These  are  the  remains  of  our  Field  Ambu- 
lance," Jack  explained.    "Come  inside  and  see; 
you  will  get  a  faint  idea  of  what  the  'Jack 
Johnsons'  did  to  our  hospital  wards." 
[242] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FKANCE 

We  passed  into  what  had  once  been  the  main 
entrance.  The  doorwaj'  had  received  one  great 
shell  which  on  bursting  had  carried  the  four 
walls  with  it.  We  stumbled  along  the  floor 
over  heaps  of  brick  and  mortar;  through  piles 
of  broken  chairs  and  beds,  and,  climbing  the 
ruins  of  the  staircase,  arrived  upon  a  landing 
from  which  we  could  see  the  interior  of  what 
had  once  been  a  large  room. 

"This  was  my  ward,"  Jack  told  us.  "You 
see  that  big  hole  in  the  roof?  A  big  shell  came 
through  there,  and  burst  right  here."  He 
pointed  to  a  wide,  irregular  opening  in  the 
floor.  Every  stick  of  furniture  was  smashed  to 
atoms.  Dajdight  came  through  great  gaping 
holes  in  the  walls  and  floor.  The  beds  were 
merely  nests  of  twisted  iron.  The  greater  part 
of  the  ceiling  had  fallen  in  and  lay  in  a  heap 
in  the  centre  of  the  room. 

As  we  walked  about  w^e  saw  that  every  other 
ward  was  in  a  similar  condition.  We  went  out 
into  the  schoolyard.  There  were  five  or  six 
tremendous  excavations  in  the  ground,  per- 
fectly round  and  capable  of  holding  a  baby 
whale.  There  was  no  earth  iieaped  up,  for 
[243] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

the  big  shells  which  made  these  hollows  left 
nothing  behind. 

We  were  still  standing  there  when  suddenly 
there  arose  a  noise  like  the  muffled  scream  of  a 
distant  multitude.  We  stood  rooted  to  the 
spot,  wondering  what  grim  horror  this  might 
be.  It  grew  louder  and  louder,  coming  to- 
wards us  at  terrific  speed. 

"For  God's  sake,"  I  cried  to  Jack,  "what  is 
that  awful  sound?" 

"Look  into  the  field — quick — you  will  see!" 

We  all  looked.  The  sound  became  a  roar — 
a  crash,  and  then  about  a  hundred  yards  away 
the  earth  sprang  high  into  the  air  in  a  great 
black  mass  intermingled  with  clouds  of  smoke 
and  stones. 

"Permit  me,"  Jack  remarked  coolly,  "to  in- 
troduce you  to  'Jack  Johnson.'  Now  you  can 
understand  a  little  how  those  poor  boys  in  the 
hospital  felt  when  he  came  crashing  through  the 
roof." 

"If  we  stay  here  a  few  minutes  longer,"  the 
colonel  remarked,  "we  may  have  it  brought 
even  more  dramatically  to  our  attention." 

Jack  laughed.  "Oh,"  he  cried,  "we're  as 
[244] 


THE    FIRST    CAX^U)IAXS    IN    FRANCE 

safe    here   as   anywhere — you   never   can   tell 
where  the  next  will  drop." 

We  were  soon  to  verify  the  truth  of  this  re- 
mark. 


[245] 


CHAPTER   XV 

We  had  turned  the  corner  of  the  road  on 
which  we  had  just  witnessed  the  effect  of  the 
big  shell — the  hole  was  still  smoking — when 
once  again  we  heard  the  distant  whine.  This 
time  there  w^as  no  need  to  ask  what  it  meant; 
we  knew  all  too  well,  and  for  an  anxious  mo- 
ment or  two  we  wondered  whether  after  its  ar- 
rival the  newspapers  would  speak  well  of  us, 
or  whether  we  should  be  blown  into  such  small 
pieces  that  we  should  only  be  reported  "miss- 
ing." 

It  is  recorded  that  sometimes  those  who  are 
drowning  are  able,  in  a  few  brief  moments,  to 
rehearse  the  drama  of  their  lives.  Our  lives 
must  have  been  too  complicated  for  such  hasty 
revision,  but  as  the  sound  changed  from  a 
whine  to  a  shriek,  an  unearthly  roar,  and  with 
a  crash  like  the  crack  of  doom  the  ground 
opened  before  us  and  shot  a  blinding  storm  of 
rocks  and  mud  sky  high — when  all  this  oc- 
curred far,  far  faster  than  I  can  pen  the  lines, 
[  246  ] 


THi:    riKST    CAX.VDIANS    IN    FRANCE 

we  had  plenty  of  time  to  develop  a  nasty  pain 
in  the  pit  of  the  stomach,  to  which  the  mystic 
torment  of  an  unripe  cucumber  is  a  joy.  A 
great  cavity  yawned  before  us  where  once  the 
road  had  been,  and  belched  forth  clouds  of 
smoke  as  if  the  crust  of  hell  were  riven  in  twain. 
At  the  same  moment,  lest  our  tranquillity 
should  be  restored  too  soon,  oiu*  own  guns 
opened  up  with  a  vicious  roar  and  hurled  their 
screeching  shells  over  our  heads  like  myriads  of 
fiends  possessed.  Reggj^'s  face  was  a  study  in 
black  and  white — I  coukhi't  see  my  own. 

"Do  you  think  the  Germans  see  us?"  he  en- 
quired anxiously  of  Jack. 

"No,  I  think  not,"  Jack  reassured  him ;  "it's 
customary  for  them  to  shell  any  good  road  in 
the  hope  of  picking  off  a  convoy." 

"It's  a  damned  uncomfortable  custom," 
Reggy  returned  earnestly,  "and  I  could  for- 
give them  for  not  observing  it  for  the  next  ten 
minutes." 

The  chauffeur,  who  had  stopped  the  car 
dead  ])y  using  the  emergency  brake,  now  re- 
leased it,  and  we  started  forward  again.  But 
we  had  considerable  difficulty  in  navigating  the 
ditch  on  tlie  side  of  what  had  been  the  road. 
[  -^47  ] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

We  had  just  moved  in  time,  for  a  second  shell 
dropped  where  we  had  been  a  moment  since, 
and  tore  the  opposite  side  of  the  road  away. 

"Being  between  two  lines  of  artillery  is  a 
little  too  much  like  battledore  and  shuttlecock," 
I  remarked  to  Reggy,  "with  all  the  odds 
against  the  shuttlecock." 

"Object  to  word  'battledore,'  "  Reggy  re- 
torted; "it's  too  frivolous  and  pun-like  for  the 
present  dangerous  occasion." 

We  were  now  making  haste  towards  a  small 
village  a  few  miles  ahead,  and  we  were  not 
sorry  as  we  passed  into  the  poor  shelter  its 
brick  houses  afforded.  As  long  as  we  were  on 
the  open  road  it  was  quite  impossible  to  rid 
oneself  of  the  feeling  that  the  car  was  in  full 
view  of  the  German  gunners. 

The  streets  of  this  dirty  little  village  were 
filled  with  British  Tommies,  who,  still  cov- 
ered with  the  mud  from  the  trenches,  were  as 
care-free  and  happy  as  were  those  fifty  miles 
from  the  front.  They  smoked  and  chatted  to- 
gether in  little  groups  at  the  entrance  or  in  the 
courtyards  of  the  miserable  hotels,  one  at  least 
ot  M'^hich  seemed  to  be  on  every  Iflock.  As  we 
drew  up  the  colonel  enquired  of  a  sentry: 
[248] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

"Can  you  tell  me  where  the  'Princess  Patri- 
cias' are  billeted?" 

AVe  had  been  informed  that  this  famous  bat- 
talion, which  had  reached  France  just  six 
weeks  after  us,  was  somewhere  in  this  neigh- 
bourhood. To  discover  their  whereabouts  was 
the  real  object  of  our  journey.  The  sentry 
made  reply: 

"I  believe,  sir,  there  is  a  battalion  of  that 
naime  'ere  somew'eres.  Hi,  Bill!"  he  called  to 
another  Tommy,  who  was  leaning  against  a 
near-by  door-post;  "w'ere  is  them  Canydians 
wot  wos  'ere  t'other  day?" 

"Bill"  banked  his  cigarette  by  pressing  it 
against  the  wall  and  came  over  on  the  double 
to  the  side  of  our  car.  He  saluted  with  that 
peculiar  Jumping-Jack  motion  so  much  a  part 
of  the  real  Tommy,  and  ejaculated: 

"I  'card  they  was  at  the  next  town,  sir;  it 
SLynt  far  from  'ere,  but  it's  a  funny  naime — 
Rurmin'-hell,  er  somethin'  like." 

"Would  it  be  Reninghelst?"  Jack  enquired. 

"Ay — that's  it,  sir;  I  knowed  they  was  'hell' 
in  it  somew'eres." 

"Just    since    the     'Canydians'    came,     I'll 
wager?"  Reggy  interjected  mischievously. 
[249] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

The  Tommy  grinned  approval  of  this  jest, 
and  volunteered  to  show  us  the  direction.  He 
stood  on  the  running  board  of  the  car  and  saw 
that  we  got  started  on  the  right  road. 

"Straight  ahead  now,  sir,"  he  said,  as  he 
saluted  and  sprang  down. 

The  heavy  shelling  had  died  away,  and  for 
the  next  two  miles  the  sun  shone  on  a  peaceful 
country.  We  had  a  chance  to  marvel  at  the 
well-ploughed  fields,  and  wondered  what  ven- 
turesome farmers  dared  work  in  such  a  place. 
It  was  almost  noon  and  we  had  begun  to  think 
that  we  had  left  the  war  behind  us  once  more, 
when  suddenly  the  rapid  bark  of  German  guns 
aroused  us,  and  the  sharp  crack  of  shrapnel 
high  above  our  heads  caused  us  to  look  up.  A 
new  sight  m.et  our  gaze. 

Three  of  our  own  aeroplanes  were  hovering 
directly  over  the  German  trenches,  and  battery 
after  battery  of  artillery  were  exhausting  them- 
selves in  an  angry  effort  to  bring  them  down. 
The  accuracy  of  the  enemy  gunners  startled  us. 
This  time  we  were  not  the  hunters,  and  our 
sympathies  were  with  the  aviators.  As  shell 
after  shell  burst,  leaving  their  white  clouds  to 
right  or  left,  we  held  our  breath  in  suspense. 
[250] 


THE    FIRST    CAN^U)IANS    IN    FKAXCE 

Time  and  again,  as  the  explosion  occurred  di- 
rectly under  one  of  our  machines,  the  smoke  hid 
it  from  view,  and,  in  a  tremor  of  anxiety,  we 
feared  to  see  it  dive  to  earth.  But  when  the 
smoke  cleared  away  our  three  undaunted  bird- 
men  were  still  on  high,  swooping  over  the  Ger- 
man batteries  with  a  persistence  and  intrepid- 
ity which  nmst  have  been  maddening  to  the 
helpless  Boschcs. 

It  wasn't  long  before  two  enemy  aviators 
rose  to  give  battle,  and  as  they  approached  our 
men  the  firing  from  below  ceased.  The  five 
aeroplanes  circled  round  and  round,  appa- 
rently sparring  for  position,  and  rose  to 
such  great  height  that  we  could  hardly  dis- 
tinguish them.  They  were  so  close  together 
that  neither  the  British  nor  German  artillery 
dared  fire  upon  them.  At  last  one  of  the  en- 
emy machines  detached  itself  from  the  others 
and  darted  towards  our  lines  with  the  speed  of 
the  wind. 

Immediately  our  batteries  opened  up,  and 
round  after  round  of  bursting  shells  followed 
its  every  movement ;  now  to  riglit,  now  to  left ; 
now  above,  now  below,  ever  closer  to  their 
mark.  Finally  one  well-directed  shell  burst 
[  251  ]  . 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FEANCE 

immediately  beneath  the  aviator.  The  ma- 
chine was  straight  over  our  heads;  v^e  craned 
our  necks  to  follow  it.  It  swerved  and  flut- 
tered like  a  wounded  bird,  slipped  sideways, 
fell  for  a  short  distance,  then  seemed  to  stag- 
ger like  a  drunken  man;  righted  itself  at  last 
and  swiftly  descended  towards  the  German 
lines.  That  the  aviator  was  wounded  we  did 
not  doubt,  but  he  had  somehow  escaped  death. 
In  the  meantime  we  had  lost  sight  of  the  other 
four  machines,  and  when  we  looked  for  them 
again  they  had  disappeared  from  view. 

The  streets  of  Reninghelst  were  crowded 
with  soldiers  when  we  reached  that  town,  and 
among  them  we  recognised,  to  our  joy,  some 
stalwart  lads  from  the  "Princess  Pats."  On 
the  corner  .was  a  group  of  young  officers,  and 
in  the  crowd  we  espied  the  familiar  features  of 
Captain  Stewart  who  had  spent  his  last  nighl 
in  Canada  with  us.  At  the  same  moment  he 
recognised  us  and  hurried  over  to  the  car  to 
greet  us. 

"Well,  well,"  he  cried  delightedly,  as  he 
shook  hands  with  us  two  at  a  time,  "welcome  to 
ftur  city!  Where  the  devil  did  you  chaps 
spring  from?" 

[252] 


THE    FIRST    CAN.VDIAXS    IN    FRANCE 

We  assured  him  that  his  question  was  quite 
a  propos,  as  we  had  just  passed  through  the 
infernal  regions.     He  laughed  as  he  replied: 

"Interesting  hit  of  road,  that  stretch  hetween 
Ypres  and  here — been  in  the  front  line  trenches 
ourselves  for  a  week  out  there — caught  blazes, 
too!" 

His  uniform  still  showed  the  effects  of  the 
trench  mud.  He  was  a  tall,  thin  chap,  prema- 
turely grey.  Like  many  others  of  the  Princess 
Pats,  he  was  a  veteran  of  the  South  African 
War,  a  crack-shot,  and  all-round  dare-devil. 
He  spoke  in  short,  quick  snatches,  starting  his 
sentences  with  unexpected  jerks,  and  could 
keep  a  regiment  in  shrieks  of  laughter. 

"How  is  the  trench  life  out  here?"  the  colo- 
nel enquired,  with  a  jerk  of  the  head  towards 
the  battle  line. 

"Plain  hell — with  a  capital  H.  Excuse  the 
repetition  of  the  word — nothing  else  describes 
it — a  quagmire  two  feet  deep,  full  of  mud  and 
filth." 

"Couldn't  you  dig  it  deeper?"  Reggy  en- 
quired with  some  concern. 

"No  chance — everywhere  you  dig — turn  up 
[253] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

rotting  carcases — farther  down  you  go  the 
more  water  you  have  to  stand  in." 

"The  snipers  are  bad  too,  are  they  not?"  I 
asked  him. 

He  laughed  again.  "Were  bad,  you  mean," 
he  cried;  "not  many  left  around  our  trench. 
Poor  Fritzie  found  us  a  nasty  lot — played 
dirty  tricks  on  him — organised  a  'snipe-the- 
sniper'  squad — put  'em  out  of  business." 

"How  did  you  manage  it?"  I  asked  curi- 
ously. 

"Stalked  'em — like  red  Indians — dug  a  tun- 
nel out  to  a  hill  too — came  up  through  the  cen- 
tre of  it — hollowed  it  out  inside — and  put  'em 
to  sleep  one  by  one.  Fritzie  doesn't  love  us 
any  more,  but,  by  Gad,  he  respects  us!" 

After  we  had  listened  to  a  few  more  details 
of  this  wild  and  remarkable  life,  the  colonel 
enquired : 

"Where  are  your  headquarters?  We  want 
to  see  your  O.C.  and  the  rest  of  the  chaps." 

"I'll  climb  in  and  show  you  the  way.  It's 
in  another  village  a  few  miles  from  here." 

Under  his  guidance  we  soon  found  ourselves 
in  the  town,  and  we  stopped  at  the  entrance  of 
a  small  house  which  still  claimed  a  patch  of 
[254] 


THE    FIRST    CAN.ADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

garden  in  front.  The  room  we  entered  con- 
tained a  barrack  table  strewn  with  field  maps 
and  papers,  and  on  the  tile  floor  were  the  sleep- 
ing bags  of  the  f om'  officers  who  made  this  their 
temporary  home.  INIajor  Gault,  a  tall,  hand- 
some officer,  with  the  bearing  of  the  true  sol- 
dier, rose  to  welcome  us. 

"It  seems  good  to  see  some  one  from  home 
again,"  he  exclaimed,  as  we  shook  hands.  "I 
thought  we  were  the  only  Canucks  in  Bel- 
gium." 

"You  were  the  first  Canadians  in  Belgium, 
but  we  beat  you  to  France  by  some  weeks,"  the 
colonel  replied,  "and  we  have  come  up  here  to 
tell  you  where  we  live,  and  to  let  you  know 
that  there  is  a  Canadian  hospital  waiting  with 
open  arms  to  receive  you  when  you  call." 

"That's  splendid,"  cried  the  major;  "when 
the  boys  get  hurt  be  sure  you'll  hear  from  us." 

It  is  just  as  well  we  cannot  look  into  the 
future.  We  walk  blindfolded,  clinging  to  the 
hand  of  Hope,  and  trust  to  her  for  kindly  guid- 
ance. None  of  us  at  that  moment  guessed  how 
soon  we  were  to  "hear"  from  those  brave  men. 

Later,  when  we  were  about  to  start  for  home, 
they  all  came  out  to  the  car  to  say  an  revoir. 
[  255  ] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

"It's  a  good  expression — 'au  revoir/  "  Cap- 
tain Stewart  cried,  as  we  were  parting;  "much 
better  than  'Good-bye.'  " 

"Take  care  of  yourselves,"  we  cried,  "but 
don't  forget  if  you  need  us,  we  are  waiting!" 

"We'll  remember,"  Stewart  returned,  "for  I 
have  a  premonition  I'll  not  be  killed  in  this 
war." 

He  waved  his  hand  as  we  left,  and  when  we 
looked  back  the  little  group,  whom  we  were 
never  to  see  together  again,  waved  their  hands 
in  a  last  farewell. 

After  about  an  hour's  run  we  saw  in  the  dis- 
tance, set  like  a  jewel  of  the  Tyrolese  Alps, 
the  pretty  town  of  Cassel,  near  which  our  own 
Canadian  boys  were  shortly  to  be  quartered. 
It  was  about  twenty  miles  in  a  direct  line  from 
the  trenches,  and  soon  after  our  visit  the  long- 
range  German  guns  dropped  their  tremendous 
shells  on  its  outskirts. 

When  we  reached  the  hospital  a  cablegram 
was  waiting  for  the  colonel.  He  tore  it  open 
hastily,  fearing  bad  news  from  home.  As  he 
read  its  contents  his  mouth  expanded  in  a  broad 
grin,  and  he  passed  it  silently  to  us.  We  read, 
and  Reggy,  looking  over  Jack's  shoulder,  had 
[256] 


THE    FIEST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

the  grace  to  blush  as  he  too  saw  his  mother's 
message : 

"Greatly  worried  about  my  son.  No  word 
from  him  for  weeks.  He  was  troubled  with 
insomnia  at  home.  Does  he  sleep  better  now? 
Cable  my  expense." 

And  the  colonel  sat  down  and  forthwith  wrote 
this  soothing  reply: 

"Reggy  splendid.  Awake  only  at  meal 
hours.     Don't  worry!" 

Late  one  night,  about  a  week  after  our  visit 
to  the  firing  line,  we  were  at  the  railway  yard 
assisting  in  the  unloading  of  a  train  of  wound- 
ed. About  three  hundred  and  fifty  had  ar- 
rived, and  we  were  transporting  them  rapidly 
to  the  hospital.  The  jNIedical  Officer  command- 
ing the  train  approached  me  and  said: 

"1  have  one  car  filled  with  wounded  officers, 
and  nearly  all  are  stretcher  cases.  Will  you 
come  and  see  them?" 

We  walked  down  the  line  of  cars  and, 
mounting  the  steps,  entered  the  officers'  coach. 
[  257  ] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FEANCE 


We  passed  between  the  cots,  and  chatted  with 
each  officer  in  turn;  they  seemed  quite  cheery 
and  bright.  But  one,  who  had  pulled  the  blan- 
kets high  about  his  neck,  and  whose  face  was 
partly  covered  with  a  sleeping-cap,  looked  very 
ill  indeed.  Unlike  the  others,  he  didn't  smile 
as  we  approached,  but  looked  up  without  inter- 
est. His  face  was  white  and  he  took  no  notice 
of  his  surroundings.  I  asked  him  how  he  felt. 
He  answered  slowly  and  in  a  weak  voice: 

"I'm  all  in,  I  guess — don't  trouble  about 
me." 

Something  in  the  voice  and  the  jerky  man- 
ner of  speech  seemed  familiar.  I  looked  at  him 
more  keenly. 

"Stewart!"  I  exclaimed  with  involuntary 
dismay.    "Good  Lord,  it's  Charley  Stewart!" 

"Oh,  is  that  you.  Major?"  he  said,  with  a 
faint  show  of  interest.  "I've  come  to  call,  you 
see,  sooner  than  I  expected.  It'll  be  a  short 
visit,"  he  continued  grimly.  "Short  trip  and 
a  dull  one." 

"Surely  it's  not  as  bad  as  that,"  I  said,  as 
encouragingly  as  I  could,  but  feeling  very  sick 
at  heart  as  I  looked  down  at  his  pale  face. 
[  258  ] 


THE    FIRST    CAN.VDIAXS    IN    FRANCE 

"Hole  through  the  stomach,"  he  replied 
weakly.    "Bad  enough  for  a  start." 

"We'll  take  you  up  to  the  hospital — I'm  sure 
we  can  fix  you  up  all  right,"  I  said,  with  as 
much  assurance  as  I  could  assume. 

"Take  me  wherever  you  like,"  he  replied 
dully;  "it  won't  be  for  long." 

I  assisted  in  getting  him  into  an  ambulance, 
and  cautioned  the  driver  to  go  carefully,  and 
after  seeing  the  others  safely  transferred, 
sprang  into  a  motor  and  followed.  Imagine 
my  surprise  and  chagrin  when  I  reached  the 
hospital  to  find  that  he  had  not  arrived,  and 
after  due  enquiry  discovered  that  he  had  been 
taken,  through  some  misunderstanding  on  the 
part  of  the  ambulance  driver,  to  Lady  Danby's 
hospital.  We  concluded  it  would  be  unsafe  to 
move  him  again  that  night,  and  after  'phoning 
the  commanding  officer  to  give  him  his  very 
best  attention,  proceeded  with  the  urgent  work 
of  caring  for  the  hundreds  of  others  who  had 
already  arrived. 

In  the  meantime  Captain  Stewart  was  car- 
ried through  the  imposing  portal  of  his  new 
abode.  As  the  stretcher  was  deposited  with  a 
slight  jar  upon  the  floor  in  the  centre  of  a  great 
[259] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

hall,  he  opened  his  eyes  and  stared  in  wonder, 
first  at  the  vaulted  roof,  then  at  the  magnifi- 
cent paintings  on  the  walls,  the  stage  at  the  f  ar 
end  of  the  hall,  and  last,  but  by  no  means  least, 
at  Lady  Danby's  beautiful  face  as  she  leaned 
over  him  to  assist  him.  Her  golden  hair,  her 
big  blue  eyes  and  flushed  cheeks,  and  her  grace- 
ful figure  were  too  much  even  for  a  man  half 
dead.  He  gave  one  more  helpless  glance  at 
the  stage,  then  his  gaze  returned  to  this  vision, 
and,  closing  his  eyes  in  a  sort  of  drowsy  ecstasy, 
murmured : 

"Where's  George  Cohan  and  the  chorus?" 

"What  does  he  say?"  asked  Lady  Danby  in 
surprise. 

"He  takes  this  for  a  theatre,  and  is  asking 
where  the  chorus  girls  are,"  a  sprightly  nurse 
volunteered,  with  keen  appreciation,  and  not 
a  little  amused  at  the  shocked  expression  on 
Lady  Danby's  face. 

"Dear  me,"  she  exclaimed,  "it  must  be  one  of 
those  dreadful  Canadians !" 

"I'm  afraid  he's  not  quite  himself  at  present, 
your  ladyship,"  the  nurse  protested,  scarcely 
able  to  repress  a  smile. 

Stewart  opened  his  eyes  once  more  and  re- 
[260] 


THE    FIRST    CAN.iDIAXS    IN    FRANCE 

marked  coolly  as  Lady  Danby  hastened  to  an- 
other patient:  "Xo — not  quite  all  there — part 
shot  away,  excuse  me."  He  then  closed  his 
eyes  again  and  lay  still  until  the  orderlies  re- 
moved him  to  his  bed. 

The  ]Medical  Officer  came  to  examine  him, 
and  the  nurse  cut  away  the  dressings  from  his 
side.  He  inspected  the  wound  very  carefully 
and  finally  said: 

"Rifle  bullet  wound  through  the  lower  lobe 
of  left  lung.    It  miglit  have  been  worse." 

"How  long  do  you  think  I  have  to  live?" 
Stewart  enquired,  with  some  anxiety. 

"To  live?"  cried  the  surgeon,  with  a  laugh. 
"About  thirty  or  forty  years,  with  luck." 

"What!"  shouted  Stewart,  as  he  half  sat  up 
in  bed  with  a  quick  jerk.  "Do  you  mean  to  tell 
me  I  have  the  ghost  of  a  chance  ?" 

"You'll  have  a  splendid  chance  if  you  keep 
quiet  and  don't  shout  like  that.  You'd  better 
lie  down  again,"  the  surgeon  commanded,  not 
unkindly. 

"Rut,  good  Lord,"  Stewart  protested  ani- 
matedly, "here  I've  been  trying  to  die  for  three 
days, — every  one  encouraged  me  to  do  it; 
and  after  passing  through  four  surgeons' 
[201] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

hands,  you're  the  first  to  tell  me  I  have  a 
chance.  It's  wonderful.  Now  I  will  live — 
I've  made  up  my  mind." 

"Who  said  you  would  die?" 

"First  the  Chaplain  at  the  Field  Ambulance 
where  they  carried  me  in — more  dead  than 
alive.  He  came  and  shook  his  head  over  me. 
He  was  a  good  chap  and  meant  well,  I'm  sure 
— he  looked  very  dismal.  I  asked  him  if  I 
would  die,  and  he  answered  pityingly :  'A  man 
shot  through  the  stomach  can't  live,  my  poor 
fellow.  Shall  I  pray  for  you?'  I  told  him  to 
go  as  far  as  he  liked — he  got  on  his  knees  and 
prayed  like  the  deuce." 

"But  you  said  you  were  wounded  three  days 
ago,"  the  surgeon  remarked.  "What  kept  you 
so  long  from  reaching  here?" 

"I  lay  one  whole  day  in  front  of  the  trench 
where  I  was  wounded.  The  stretcher-bearers, 
against  my  wishes,  came  out  to  bring  me  in — 
just  as  the  man  at  my  head  stooped  down  they 
shot  him  through  the  brain.  I  heard  the  bullet 
go  'chuck,' — he  fell  stone  dead  across  me.  I 
ordered  the  others  back  at  once — that  they 
must  leave  me  until  night.  They  refused 
to  go  at  first,  but  I  commanded  them  again  to 
[262] 


THE    FIRST    CAX.\X>IAXS    IN    FRANCE 

get  back — at  last  when  they  saw  I  was  de- 
termined, they  went.  Poor  chaps!  I  know 
they  felt  worse  at  leaving  me  than  as  if  they 
had  been  shot  down." 

During  this  conversation  the  surgeon  had 
dressed  the  wound,  and  now,  admonishing  his 
patient  that  he  must  not  talk  any  more,  left 
him  for  tlie  night.  In  the  morning  Lady  Dan- 
by  came  to  his  cot  and  marvelled  at  his  bright 
face  and  cheery  smile. 

"You're  feeling  better  this  morning,  I  see," 
she  remarked  brightly. 

"]Much  the  better  for  seeing  you,  madam," 
Stewart  returned,  with  his  customary  chivalry; 
"and  one  does  recover  rapidly  with  such  excel- 
lent nursing  and  care." 

"I'm  afraid  we're  going  to  lose  you  to-day," 
she  replied,  with  a  tinge  of  regret  in  her  tone. 
"The  Canadians  insist  on  claiming  you  as  their 
own,  and  I  suppose  we  must  let  you  go." 

"I  must  admit,"  he  returned,  "that  I  am 
sorry  to  leave  such  congenial  companj^ — come 
and  see  me  sometimes,  won't  you,  please?" 

Lady  Danby  smiled.  "When  I  first  saw  you 
last  night,  I  thought  I  shouldn't  care  to  see  you 
again — but  you  aren't  really  quite  as  dreadful 
[  2G3  ] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

as  I  thought.    Some  day  soon  I'll  run  in  to  see 
how  you  are  getting  on." 

A  few  hours  later,  when  Stewart  was  safely 
ensconced  in  our  hospital,  he  observed  reminis- 
cently;  "I'm  awfully  glad  to  be  among  old 
friends  once  more — but  those  English  hospitals 
are  not  without  their  attractions !" 


[  264  ] 


CHAPTER    XVI 

He  was  a  mere  boy,  scarce  nineteen  years  of 
age,  a  sub-lieutenant  in  the  Territorials,  and  a 
medallist  in  philosophy  from  Oxford. 

Who  would  have  guessed  that  tliis  frail,  deli- 
cate-looking AVelsli  youtli  with  the  fair  hair 
and  grey  eyes  was  gifted  with  an  intellect  of 
which  all  England  might  be  proud?  He  might 
have  passed  unnoticed  had  one  not  spoken  to 
b.im,  and,  having  spoken,  had  seen  the  hand- 
some face  light  up  with  fascinating  vivacity  as 
he  replied. 

One  cannot  attempt  to  recollect  or  depict 
the  mystic  workings  of  his  marvellous  mind; 
for,  once  aroused,  gems  of  thought,  clear  cut 
and  bright  as  scintillations  from  a  star,  dropped 
from  his  lips  and  left  his  hearers  steeped  in 
wonder. 

It  was  tlicn,  you  may  well  believe,  no  ordi- 
nary youth  who  walked  into  tlie  hospital,  with 
mud-covered  clothes  and  his  kit  still  strapped 
lo  his  back.  He  dropped  the  kit  upon  the  floor 
[  205  ] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

of  his  room  and,  sinking  wearily  into  a  chair, 
brushed  back  with  his  hand  the  unruly  hair 
which  sought  to  droop  over  iiis  high  forehead. 

His  commanding  officer,  who  had  accompa- 
nied him  to  the  hospital,  had  taken  me  aside, 
before  I  entered  the  room,  and  had  told  me  pri- 
vately his  views  about  the  boy. 

"You  look  tired,"  I  remarked,  as  I  noted  the 
weary  droop  of  the  head. 

He  smiled  quickly  as  he  looked  up  and  said : 
"Done  up,  I  think.  Those  six  months  in  Malta 
were  a  bit  too  much  for  me." 

"But  you  have  been  home  before  coming  to 
France,  have  you  not?"  I  asked  him. 

"Home!"  he  cried  in  surprise.  "No  such 
luck !  We  had  expected  a  week  or  two  in  Eng- 
land after  our  return,  but  it's  off.  There  were 
four  thousand  of  us  in  Malta,  but  we're  all  here 
now,  at  Etaples,  and  liable  to  be  sent  to  the 
trenches  any  moment.  When  I  stood  on  the 
cliffs  at  Wimereux  yesterday  and  saw  the  dear 
old  shores  across  the  Channel — "  He  stopped 
suddenly,  overpowered  by  some  strong  emo- 
tion. "I'd  be  a  better  soldier  farther  off.  Be- 
tween homesickness  and  the  pain  in  my  chest, 
I'm  about  all  in." 

[  266  ] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

He  did  look  tired  and  faint,  and  even  the 
pink  rays  of  the  setting  sun  failed  to  tint  the 
pallor  of  his  cheeks.  I  told  him  I  would  send 
the  orderly  to  help  him  undress  and  that  he 
must  get  into  hed  at  once. 

When  I  retiu-ned  shortly  and  examined  his 
chest,  I  found  that  he  was  suffering  from  a 
touch  of  pleurisy;  there  were,  too,  traces  of 
more  serious  trouble  in  the  limgs. 

"What  do  you  think  of  me,  ]\Iajor?"  he  en- 
quired with  a  quizzical  smile,  when  I  had  com- 
pleted the  examination.  "Anything  interest- 
ing inside?" 

"Interesting  enough  to  call  for  a  long  rest," 
I  replied.  "We'll  have  to  keep  you  here  a 
while  and  later  send  you  home  to  England." 

"]My  O.C,  who  b}^  the  way  is  my  uncle  too, 
and  a  medical  man,  insisted  on  my  coming 
here,"  he  remarked.  "He  says  I'm  not  strong 
enough  for  trench  life.  But  the  old  boy — 
bless  his  heart! — loves  me  like  a  son,  and  I'm 
morally  certain  he  wants  to  pack  me  off  for 
fear  I'll  get  killed.  I  simply  can't  go  home, 
you  know,  until  I've  done  my  })it.  It  would  be 
jolly  weak  of  me,  wouldn't  it?" 

"You  might  go  for  a  time,"  I  replied  guard- 
[267] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 


edly,    "and   return   later   on   when   you   get 
stronger." 

He  started  to  laugh,  but  a  quick  stabbing 
pain  in  the  chest  caught  him  halfway,  and  he 
stopped  short  with  a  twisted  smile  as  he  ex- 
claimed : 

"I  believe  the  old  chap  has  been  talking  to 
you  too !  You're  all  in  league  to  get  me  out  of 
France." 

This  was  so  close  to  the  truth  that  I  could 
not  contradict  him,  but  shook  my  head  in  par- 
tial negative.  .  His  uncle  felt,  as  I  too  came  to 
feel  later,  that  the  loss  to  the  world  of  such  a 
brilliant  mind  and  one  with  such  potentialities 
would  not  be  compensated  for  by  the  little  good 
its  master  could  accomphsh  physically  in  the 
trenches. 

"After  all,"  he  argued,  "how  much  poorer 
would  Wales  be  if  I  were  gone?  The  hole 
would  soon  be  filled." 

"I  can't  agree  with  you,"  I  answered  slowly; 
"your  life  is  more  important  to  others  than  you 
think,  and  you  would  risk  it  in  a  field  for  which 
you  are  not  physically  fitted.  You  have  over- 
drawn your  brain  account  at  the  Bank  of  Na- 
[268] 


THE    FIRST    CAN.VDIANS    IN    FRANCE 

ture,  and  flesh  is  paying  up.  You  must  go 
home  until  the  note  is  settled." 

"Sounds  rational  but  horribly  mathematical 
— and  1  always  hated  mathematics.  Hope  I'll 
be  able,"  he  continued  mischievously,  "to  re- 
pay the  'interest'  you  and  uncle  are  taking  in 
me." 

"We  want  you  to  consider  the  matter  philo- 
sophically," I  said,  "not  mathematically." 

"That's  better,"  he  replied,  with  his  usual 
bright  smile;  "philosophy  comes  more  natural 
to  me.  True,  it  savours  of  Euclid,  but  I  can 
forgive  it  that  offence;  it  has  so  manj^  virtues." 

He  remained  silent  a  few  moments,  thinking, 
and  then  asked  me  suddenly:  "If  I  go  home, 
how  soon  can  I  get  back  to  France?" 

"I  hope  you  won't  return  here,"  I  replied 
gravely;  "it  would  be  suicidal,  and,  flattery 
aside,  your  life  is  too  valuable  to  be  sacrificed 
over  here." 

"Perhaps  you  are  right,"  he  murmured  pen- 
sively, as  though  we  were  discussing  a  third 
party  whose  life  interested  him  only  in  an  im- 
personal manner,  and  without  exhibiting  the 
sliglitest  self-consciousness  or  vanity.  "It 
might  be  better  if  I  stayed  at  home.  I  admit," 
[269] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

he  continued  more  brightly,  "I  have  a  selfish 
desire  to  live.  I  am  so  young  and  have  seen 
so  little  of  this  great  big  interesting  world  and 
I  want  so  much  to  know  what  it  all  means. 
Still  I  would  far  sooner  die  than  feel  myself  a 
slacker  or  a  'skrimshanker.'  " 

"No  one  will  mistake  you  for  either,"  I  re- 
turned warmly.  "Your  lungs  are  not  strong, 
and  I  fear  if  you  remain  here  in  the  cold  and 
wet  you  will  not  recover." 

"There's  so  much  in  life  to  live  for,"  he  cried 
animatedly;  "besides,  I'm  a  little  dubious  of 
the  after  world.  For  a  little  longer  I  should 
like  to  learn  what  tangible  pleasures  this  world 
offers,  rather  than  tempt  the  unsubstantiated 
promises  of  a  future  state." 

"But  surely  you  believe  in  an  after  life?"  I 
enquired,  in  some  surprise. 

"It's  difficult  to  believe  what  one  cannot 
prove,"  he  returned  evasively. 

"But,"  I  ventured  argumentatively,  "I  can 
imagine  that  if  the  total  matter  in  the  universe 
is  indestructible  and  cannot  be  added  to  or 
taken  from,  the  soul  too  is  indestructible — it 
may  be  changed,  but  cannot  be  destroyed." 

"Ah!"  he  exclaimed  quickly,  ''jon  are  as- 
[270] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

Sliming  the  reality  of  the  abstract.  Suppose  I 
do  not  agree  with  your  hypothesis,  and  deny 
the  existence  of  the  soul!  You  cannot  prove 
me  wrong.  Sometimes  I  fear,"  he  continued 
more  softly,  "the  soul,  or  what  we  conceive  to 
he  the  soul,  is  merely  the  reflection  of  poor  Hu- 
manity beating  its  anxious  wings  against  the 
horror  of  extinction." 

"Or  the  shadow  of  a  poor  physician  scuttling 
away  from  tlie  terrors  of  your  philosophy,"  I 
laughed.  "You  iconoclasts  w^ould  pull  our 
castles-in-the-air  about  our  ears  and  leave  us 
standing  in  the  ruins." 

"I'll  build  another  castle  for  you,"  he  re- 
turned with  a  queer,  sad  smile,  as  though  he 
sjinpathised  with  my  dilemma. 

"But  not  to-night,"  I  urged,  as  I  arose  to  go; 
"you  must  wait  until  you  are  stronger;  you 
have  been  talking  too  much  already  for  one  so 
ill,  and  I  must  say  good  night." 

It  was  several  days  later,  and  the  youthful 
philosopher  was  making  good  progress  on  the 
road  to  recovery,  when  another  young  officer, 
very  similar  in  appearance  to  our  patient, 
drove  up  to  the  door  of  the  hospital  in  a  motor 
car.  He  was  attended  by  two  senior  officers  of 
[  271  ] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

distinguished  appearance  and  very  military 
bearing,  and  who  showed  considerable  defer- 
ence towards  their  young  companion. 

Apparently  they  had  come  from  the  front 
and,  as  the  colonel  showed  them  about  the  va- 
rious wards,  took  the  keenest  interest  in  the 
patients.  At  last  they  came  to  the  young 
Welshman's  room.  As  they  entered  he  turned 
to  look  at  them,  and,  dropping  his  arms,  sud- 
denly lay  at  "attention"  in  bed. 

"Llewellyn,  by  Jove!"  exclaimed  the 
youngest  of  the  trio,  as  he  stepped  forward  and 
shook  our  patient  warmly  by  the  hand.  "I  had 
no  idea  you  were  here.    How  are  you?" 

"Much  better,  thank  you,  your  Royal  High- 
ness," said  Llewellyn,  with  his  ready  smile, 
"and  greatly  honoured  by  your  visit,  sir." 

"I  hope  it  is  nothing  serious,"  said  the  Prince 
of  Wales  kindly — for  it  was  he — "you  are  look- 
ing quite  bright!" 

"It  isn't  very  serious,  I  believe,  sir — a  touch 
of  pleurisy,  that's  all.  But  the  doctors  insist 
on  sending  me  home  on  account  of  it.  That  is 
my  chief  grievance." 

The  young  Prince  smiled  understandingly. 
It  was  not  so  long  since  he  too  had  unwillingly 
[272] 


THE    FIKST    CANADIANS    IN    IKANCE 

been  detained  at  home  by  iUness.  His  blue 
eyes  lit  up  with  a  quick  sympathy  as  he  re- 
marked : 

"I  hadn't  expected  to  find  an  old  class-mate 
here;  I  hope  you  will  soon  be  quite  well  again 
and  able  to  return  to  France." 

"I  shall  do  my  best  to  get  well  soon,"  Lle- 
wellyn answered  thoughtfully;  "but  the  doc- 
tors seem  to  consider  my  constitution  too  deli- 
cate for  trench  life,  sir.  I  have  the  consola- 
tion, though,  of  knowing  that  our  college  is 
well  represented  at  the  front,  for  of  the  sev- 
enty-five students  at  ^lagdalen  only  five  are 
home,  and  three  of  those  were  physically 
unfit." 

"Isn't  that  a  splendid  record!"  cried  the 
Prince  with  enthusiasm.  "It  makes  one  feel 
proud  of  one's  college." 

They  chatted  on  various  topics  for  a  few^ 
moments  longer,  and  then  as  his  Royal  High- 
ness turned  to  go  he  exclaimed : 

"This  is  a  wonderful  hos2)ital;  a  great  credit 

to  Canada!    I  must  write  father  and  tell  him 

about  it.     I  consider  it  one  of  the  finest  in 

France.     I  am  sure  you  will  do  well  here. 

[273] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

Good-bye,  dear  chap,  and  the  best  of  good  luck 
to  you!" 

The  kindly  and  earnest  good  wishes  of  his 
Royal  young  friend  touched  Llewellyn  deeply, 
and  there  was  a  suspicious  trace  of  moisture  in 
his  eyes  as  he  returned : 

"Good-bye,  sir,  and  many,  many  thanks  for 
your  kindness  in  coming  to  see  me." 


[274] 


CHAPTER   XVII 

The  senior  major  bought  a  motor  car.  It 
was  his  supreme  extravagance.  If  there  were 
others  who  frittered  away  their  substance  in 
riotous  living,  at  least  the  major  could  not  be 
accused  of  such  frivolity.  He  had  none  of  the 
petty  vices  which  eat  like  a  wicked  moth  into 
the  fabric  of  one's  income.  Any  vice  that  got 
at  his  income  bit  it  off  in  large  chunks  and 
bolted  it  before  you  could  say  "Jack  Robin- 
son." The  motor  car  was  the  greatest  of  these. 
There  may  be  some  who  do  not  consider  a  mo- 
tor car  a  vice.  The  only  answer  I  can  give 
them  is  that  they  never  saw  the  major's  car. 
When  he  first  unearthed  its  skeletal  remains  in 
the  hospital  garage,  it  bore  a  remote  resem- 
blance to  a  vehicle.  It  had  part  of  an  engine, 
four  tireless  wheels,  and  places  which  were 
meant  for  seats.  A  vision  of  its  possibilities 
inmiediately  arose  before  his  mind's  eye,  and 
he  could  see  it,  rehabilitated  and  carefully  fed, 
[  275  ] 


THE   FIRST   CANADIANS   IN   FRANCE 

growing  into  a  "thing  of  beauty  and  a  joy  for- 
ever." 

Some  of  the  officers  argued  it  was  German, 
because  no  such  thing  could  have  been  made  by 
human  beings.  Others  maintained  it  had  been 
left  on  the  hospital  grounds  centuries  before 
and  the  garage  had  grown  up  around  it.  The 
maker,  out  of  modesty,  had  omitted  to  inscribe 
his  name,  but  it  had  a  number  whose  hiero- 
glyphics antedated  "Bill  Stump's  Mark."  The 
original  owner  sacrificed  it,  from  a  spirit  of  pa- 
triotism, no  doubt,  for  the  paltry  sum  of  three 
hundred  dollars,  and  in  the  course  of  time,  with 
the  trifling  expenditure  of  three  hundred  and 
fifty  more,  two  mechanics  succeeded  in  getting 
it  started. 

That  was  a  memorable  day  when,  with  a 
noise  like  an  asthmatic  steam-roller,  it  came 
ambling  out  of  the  hospital  yard,  peered 
around  the  comer  of  the  fence,  and  struck  off 
down  the  road  at  a  clip  of  three  good  English 
miles  an  hour. 

We  rushed  to  the  door  to  see  it,  and  when 

the  smoke  of  the  exhaust  cleared  a  little,  there 

sat  the  major   ensconced   in   the   front   seat. 

There  was  a  beatific  smile  about  his  mouth  and 

[276] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    I  RANCE 

a  gleam  of  pride  in  his  eye — the  pride  of  pos- 
session. He  wasn't  quite  sure  what  it  was  he 
possessed,  but  it  was  something  which  moved, 
something  instinct  with  life. 

"Sounds  a  bit  noisy  yet,"  he  murmured  con- 
fidentially to  himself,  "but  it  will  loosen  up 
when  it  gets  running  a  while." 

What  proj)hetic  sagacity  there  was  in  this 
remark!  It  did  loosen  up,  and  to  such  good 
purpose  that  several  parts  fell  off  upon  the 
road.  Little  by  little  it  got  going,  and  in  less 
than  a  month  you  might  have  heard  it  almost 
any  bright  afternoon,  groaning  in  the  garage 
preparatory  to  sallying  forth  upon  its  quest. 

But  about  this  time  another  event  of  such 
importance  occurred  that  the  major's  car  was 
thrust  into  the  background.  We  had  in  our 
hospital  a  venerable  old  sergeant  of  peripa- 
tetic propensities,  who  had  two  claims  to  recog- 
nition :  first,  that  he  was,  and  is,  the  oldest  sol- 
dier in  the  Canadian  force  in  France;  and  sec- 
ondly— but  this  was  never  proved — that  he 
could  "lick,"  according  to  his  own  testimony, 
any  man  within  fifteen  years  of  his  age  in  that 
part  of  the  world. 

Sergeant  Plantsfield,  our  postman  and  gen- 
[277] 


THE    FIRST    CANiiDIANS    IN    FRANCE 

eral  messenger,  travelled  into  Boulogne  and 
back  from  once  to  thrice  daily — in  other  words, 
inside  the  year  he  accomplished  a  motor  trip 
of  sufficient  length  to  encompass  the  earth. 
His  stock  of  rumours  was  inexhaustible,  for  he 
developed  and  launched  upon  an  unapprecia- 
tive  world  at  least  one  new  tale  daily. 

Now  if  there  is  one  thing  a  soldier  loves 
more  than  another  it's  a  "rumour";  and  the 
more  glaringly  absurd,  the  more  readily  he  will 
listen  to  it.  So  when  the  worthy  old  sergeant 
burst  into  the  hospital  with  excited  eyes, 
flushed  cheeks  and  cap  all  awry  after  his  latest 
trip  from  Boulogne,  the  boys  crowded  round  to 
hear  the  news. 

"They're  here!  By  gosh!  They're  here  at 
last!"  he  shouted,  as  he  deposited  his  overflow- 
ing mail  bag  in  the  hall  and  looked  triumphant- 
ly from  one  to  another  of  his  listeners. 

"Who's  here,"  demanded  Barker,  "the  Ger- 
mans?" 

"Germans  be  blowed!"  declared  the  sergeant 
with  scornful  emphasis.  "They  won't  never  be 
here!" 

"Put  a  little  pep  in  it,  dad!"  said  Huxford. 
"Wot  is  it?" 

[278] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

The  sergeant  wafted  a  full  minute  to  give 
impress  to  his  announcement,  and  then  in  a 
tense  whisper  ejaculated:  "The  rest  of  the  Ca- 
nadians are  in  France — the  whole  division's  at 
the  front!" 

There  was  a  dead  silence  for  a  moment,  and 
then  a  wild  cheer  went  up  that  shook  the  hall 
until  the  windows  rattled. 

"Ye  ain't  stufTin'  us  again?"  Wilson  queried 
anxiously,  when  the  noise  had  died  away.  "Ye 
done  it  so  often  afore." 

Plantsfield  looked  at  him  with  withering  con- 
tempt. That  his  word — the  word  of  the  chief 
"rumourist"  of  the  unit — should  be  doubted 
was  almost  too  much  for  human  endurance. 

"I'll  stuff  you,  ye  young  cub,  if  ye  dare  to 
doubt  a  man  old  enough  to  be  yer  grand- 
father," he  returned  scathingly;  and  then  turn- 
ing to  the  others  he  continued:  "I  seen  the 
Mechanical  Transport  near  Boulogne  and  was 
talkin'  to  them." 

"Oh,  I'll  bet  you  wos  talkin',  all  right,"  Wil- 
son came  back  vindictively,  "if  ye  got  within 
fifty  yards  uv  'em." 

Plantsfield's  garrulity  was  proverbial.  He 
had  been  known  to  buttonhole  generals  and 
[  -'TO  ] 


THE    FIRST    CANiiDIANS    IN    FRANCE 

draw  them  to  one  side  to  whisper  a  choice  bit 
of  scandal  in  their  unwilling  ears — his  age  ex- 
cusing him  from  reprimand. 

He  looked  wrathfully  at  Wilson,  but  that 
wily  youth  kept  his  rosy  cheeks  carefully  out 
of  arm-shot.  Turning  back  to  his  more  re- 
spectful auditors,  and  for  the  nonce  ignoring 
the  disrespectful  one,  he  pursued : 

"The  Supply  Column  on  their  way  to  the 
front  saw  a  German  aeroplane  over  them,  for- 
got discipline  in  their  excitement,  jumped 
down  off  their  waggons  and  blazed  away  at  it 
with  their  rifles." 

"Without  orders,  I'll  bet?"  exclaimed  Jog- 
man,  slapping  his  knee. 

"Of  course,"  grinned  Plantsfield. 

Honk  had  been  standing  with  his  mouth 
open,  listening  intently  and  taking  in  every 
word  orally.  He  opened  it  a  shade  wider  as 
Jogman  finished  speaking,  and  was  about  to 
make  an  observation,  when  Huxford,  who  was 
somewhat  of  a  mimic,  took  the  words  out  of 
his  mouth : 

"Just  like  them  blawsted  Canydians — 'avin' 
their  poke  at  th'  bleedin'  Hun.    W'y  cawn't 
[280] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

they  wyte  fer  h'orders  like  h'everybody  h'else — 
wj^te  until  'e  gits  aw'y?" 

Honk's  indignant  protest  was  drowned  in 
the  general  clamour  wliicli  followed  this  sally, 
but  his  eyes — individually — said  wonders. 

At  the  outset  discipline  was  a  sore  point  with 
the  Canadians.  Like  the  peoples  of  all  free- 
horn  countries,  it  took  a  long  time  to  suppress 
the  desire  for  individual  initiative  and  an  in- 
nate independence  resented  authority.  But  as 
the  war  progressed,  Tommy  and  his  seniors 
came  to  realise  the  absolute  necessity  for  dis- 
cipline, and  bowed  with  what  grace  they  might 
before  its  yoke.  Perhaps  what  reconciled  them 
most  was  the  acquired  knowledge  that  it  per- 
vaded all  ranks  from  the  generals  down.  They 
soon  saw  that  the  chain  of  responsibility  must 
have  no  missing  link. 

In  the  early  days  of  the  war,  however,  on 
Salisbury  Plains  in  the  rain  and  mud,  discipline 
was  almost  an  impossibility,  and  officers  seek- 
ing to  inculcate  this  quality  in  their  men  had 
many  strange  experiences. 

A  Tommy  ^vas  doing  "sentry  go"  one  eve- 
ning in  front  of  his  battalion  lines  when  an  offi- 
cer approached  to  speak  to  him.  Tommy  kept 
[281] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

his  rifle  firmly  on  his  shoulder,  at  the  "slope," 
and  made  no  attempt  to  come  to  attention  or 
salute.  The  officer,  wishing  to  see  if  he  un- 
derstood his  duty,  demanded : 

"What  are  you  doing  here?" 

"Just  walkin'  up  an'  down,"  Tommy  re- 
plied nonchalantly,  forgetting,  or  at  least 
omitting  that  important  suffix :  ''sir." 

"Just  walking  up  and  down,"  the  officer 
reiterated,  with  annoyance.  "What  do  you 
suppose  you're  walking  up  and  down  for?" 

"To  see  that  none  of  them  guys  comes  in 
soused  an'  disorderly,  I  s'pose,"  he  replied, 
but  without  any  apparent  interest  in  his  oc- 
cupation. 

"Don't  you  know  who  I  am?"  the  officer  de- 
manded testily,  exasperated  beyond  endurance 
by  such  slackness. 

"No,"  Tommy  answered  shortly.  The  ab- 
sence of  the  "sir"  was  striking,  and  the  tone 
implied  further  that  he  didn't  care. 

'Tin  the  commanding  officer  of  your  hat- 
talion!"  Each  word  dropped  like  an  icicle 
from  the  official  lips. 

"Holy — Jumpin' — Judas !"  Tommy  ex- 
claimed, doing  the  "present  arms"  in  three 
[282] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

distinct  movements — one  to  each  word;  "court- 
martial  fer  me!" 

It  was  too  much  for  the  gravity  of  the  most 
hardened  disciplinarian.  The  colonel  turned 
and  fled  from  the  spot  until  he  was  far  enough 
away  that  the  God  of  Discipline  might  not  be 
incensed  at  his  shouts  of  laughter. 

Tommy  escaped  the  court-martial,  but  he 
wondered  all  evening  what  a  sentry  really  was 
supposed  to  do. 

It  was  almost  a  month  after  Plantsfield's 
momentous  announcement  before  the  Canadi- 
ans conmienced  arriving  at  our  hospital.  They 
came  in  twos  and  threes,  scattered  amongst 
large  numbers  of  other  British  troops,  but  they 
were  mostly  cases  of  illness  or  slight  wounds — 
and  we  had  little  opportunity  for  comparing 
the  stoicism  of  our  own  boys  with  that  of  the 
English,  Irish  and  Scotch  who  arrived  in 
droves.  What  would  our  lads  be  like  when 
they  too  came  back  broken  and  torn?  Would 
they  be  as  patient  and  brave  as  the  other  Brit- 
ish Tonmiies?  Could  they  measure  up  to  the 
standard  of  heroism  set  by  these  men  of  the 
Bull  Dog  breed?  We  waited,  we  watched  and 
we  wondered. 

[283] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

There  was  only  desultory  fighting  during 
the  month  of  JMarch,  and  most  of  the  wounds 
were  from  "snipers"  or  shrapnel. 

The  first  seriously  wounded  Canadian  to 
reach  the  hospital  was  an  artillery  officer,  from 
Alberta.  A  small  German  shell  had  dropped 
into  his  dug-out  and  exploded  so  close  to  him 
that  it  was  a  miracle  he  escaped  at  all.  When 
he  arrived  with  his  head  completely  swathed  in 
bandages,  and  fifty  or  more  wounds  about  his 
body,  he  looked  more  like  an  Egyptian  mum- 
my than  a  man.  His  mouth  and  the  tip  of 
his  nose  were  the  only  parts  of  his  body  ex- 
posed to  view,  and  they  were  burned  and 
swollen  to  such  an  extent  that,  apart  from  their 
position,  they  conveyed  no  impression  of  their 
true  identity.  It  was  somewhat  gruesome  to 
hear  a  deep  bass  voice,  without  the  slightest 
tremour,  emerge  from  this  mass  of  bandages. 
It  was  as  if  the  dead  had  suddenly  come  to 
life. 

"Would  you  be  kind  enough  to  put  a  cigar- 
ette in  my  mouth,  sir?"  he  asked. 

One  is  tempted  to  believe  that  after  this 
war  the   eternal   question  will   no   longer  be 
"Woman,"  but  "Cigarette." 
[  284  ] 


THE    IIKST    CAN.U)IANS    IX    FRANCE 

"Do  you  think  you  can  smoke?"  I  asked  hini 
doubtfully. 

Something  remotely  resembling  a  laugh 
came  from  the  bandaged  head,  but  there  was 
not  the  slightest  visible  sign  of  mirth. 

"I  can  manage  it  fairly  well,"  he  returned 
confidently;  "my  right  armr  has  only  a  few 
wounds." 

Only  a  few  wounds  1  And  he  could  lie 
there  and  speak  cahnly  of  theml  He  might 
have  been  excused  for  hysterics.  The  English 
officers  in  the  other  beds  smiled  appreciatively: 

"He's  a  brick!"  I  heard  one  murmur. 

The"  nursing  sister,  a  keen,  young  woman 
of  ability,  looked  across  the  bed  at  me  with 
a  slight  smile  of  pride.  She  made  no  re- 
mark but  as  she  leaned  over  her  patient  to  un- 
wind his  bandages,  a  flush  of  pleasure  at  his 
heroism  dyed  her  cheeks.  We  would  have  no 
cause  to  be  ashamed  of  our  own  boys.  As  we 
stood  beside  the  bed  of  that  gallant  chap,  the 
ejiitome  of  all  that  was  best  and  bravest  from 
home,  a  lump  arose  in  our  throats  and  choked 
back  speech. 

With  the  aid  of  cocaine,  I  removed  about  a 
dozen  small  pieces  of  shell  from  his  chest  and 

[  -'8-5  ] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

arms.  His  face  was  mottled  with  myriads  of 
splinters  of  stone,  and  his  right  eye  was  prac- 
tically gone.  The  hair  had  been  completely 
burned  off  his  head  and  in  the  centre  of  the 
scalp  a  piece  of  nickel,  about  the  size  of  a  penny 
and  as  thin  as  a  wafer,  had  been  driven.  One 
large  piece  of  shell  had  buried  itself  in  the 
right  leg;  half  a  dozen  more  smaller  scraps 
were  in  the  left;  his  wrist  watch  had  been 
smashed  to  atoms  and  the  main  spring  was 
embedded  in  the  flesh. 

"I  can't  see  yet,"  he  explained,  "so  please 
watch  where  I  lay  my  cigarette.  I  suppose  my 
eyes  will  come  around  in  time?" 

How  much  would  we  have  given  to  have 
been  able  to  assure  him  of  such  a  possibility! 
I  had  grave  doubts,  but  answered  as  encourag- 
ingly as  I  dared.  Reggy  came  in  later  to  ex- 
amine the  eye  and  shook  his  head  over  it  de- 
spondently. 

"There's  a  chance  for  the  left  eye,"  he  re- 
marked to  me,  as  we  passed  out  into  the  hall, 
"but  the  right  eye  will  have  to  be  removed  as 
soon  as  he  is  able  to  stand  the  operation." 

(Apart  from  this  loss,  in  the  course  of  time, 
he  recovered  perfectly. ) 

[286] 


THE    ITKST    CANADIANS    IN    TRANCE 

We  went  into  the  room  of  a  young  officer 
from  British  Columbia,  who  had  also  just 
reached  the  hospital.  He  was  a  tall,  hand- 
some, fair-haired  youth.  He  rose  to  his  feet, 
trembling  violently,  as  we  entered.  He  was 
still  dressed  and  after  we  had  passed  the  cus- 
tomary greetings  I  enquired: 

"Plave  you  been  wounded?" 

*'Xo,"  he  replied  with  a  smile,  although  his 
lip  quivered  as  he  spoke.  "I  wish  I  had  been. 
It's  rotten  luck  to  get  put  out  of  business  like 
this.  I  got  in  the  way  of  a  'Jack  Johnson'; 
it  played  me  a  scurfy  trick — shell-shock,  they 
tell  me,  that's  all." 

It  might  be  all,  but  it  surely  was  enough. 
There  is  nothing  more  pitiable  than  the  sight 
of  a  strong,  active  young  man,  trembling  con- 
tinuously like  an  aspen  leaf.  Shell-shock,  that 
strange,  intangible  condition  which  leaves  its 
victims  nervous  wrecks  for  months  or  years, 
was  uncommon  in  the  early  days  of  the  war, 
but  with  the  advent  of  thousands  of  guns  is 
much  more  common  now. 

We  cliatted  with  him  for  a  little  while,  and 
then  continued  our  pilgrimage  to  the  larger 
wards.  Nursing  Sister  JNIedoc,  a  tall  graceful 
[287] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

girl,  a  typical  trained  nurse,  met  us  at  the 
door. 

"Here's  a  strange  case,  Major,"  she  re- 
marked, as  she  pointed  to  one  of  the  new  ar- 
rivals who  had  just  been  placed  in  bed.  "He 
is  quite  insane  and  thinks  he  is  still  in  the 
trenches,  but  he  refuses  to  speak." 

"He  must  be  insane  if  he  won't  speak  to 
you.  Sister,"  Reggy  suggested  facetiously. 

"That  will  be  quite  enough  from  you,  young 
man,"  she  returned  with  calm  severity. 

Sister  Medoc  preceded  us  into  the  ward, 
and  Reggy  whispered  confidentially  in  my  ear : 

"Ho  you  know,  you  can't  'jolly'  our  trained 
nurses — they're  too  clever.  Sometimes  I  think 
they're  scarcely  human." 

^'You're  quite  right,  Reggy,"  I  returned 
consolingly,  "too  many  are  divine." 

Reggy  looked  as  if  he  would  have  liked  to 
argue  the  point,  but  by  this  time  we  had  reached 
the  bedside  of  our  patient.  I  addressed  a  few 
words  to  him,  but  he  made  no  response  and 
returned  my  look  with  a  fixed  and  discomfiting 
stare.  I  wondered  how,  if  he  refused  to  talk, 
the  nurse  could  tell  he  believed  himself  still  in 
the  trenches. 

[288] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    PRANCE 


The  riddle  Avas  shortly  solved.  Turning  on 
his  side  and  leaning  on  one  elbow,  he  grasped 
tlie  bar  at  the  head  of  the  bed  and  cautiously 
drew  himself  up  until  he  could  look  over  the 
"parapet."  lie  shaded  his  eyes  with  one  hand 
and  gazed  fearfully  for  a  moment  or  two  into 
the  mists  of  "No  Man's  Land."  Then  quickly 
raising  his  elbow  in  an  attitude  of  self-de- 
fence, he  shrank  back,  listening  intently  to 
some  sound  we  could  not  hear,  and  suddenly, 
with  a  low  cry  of  alarm,  dived  beneath  the 
sheets  ( into  the  trench )  as  the  imaginary  shell 
went  screaming  over  his  head. 

As  soon  as  it  had  passed  he  was  up  at  the 
"parapet"  again,  straining  his  eyes  and  ears 
once  more.  His  nostrils  dilated  tremulously 
as  his  breath  came  in  quick  short  gasps.  His 
upper  lip  curled  in  anger,  and  in  that  gi'im 
moment  of  waiting  for  the  German  charge,  his 
teeth  snapped  firmly  together  and  every  muscle 
of  his  body  was  tense. 

By  the  strained  look  in  his  eyes  we  knew 
the  enemy  was  almost  upon  him — Reggy  and  I 
in  tlie  forefront.  With  a  wild  cry  of  hate  and 
fury  he  sprang  at  us,  lunging  forward  des- 
perately with  his  bayonet.  Reggy  backed  pre- 
[289] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

cipitately  against  me,  but  before  he  had  time 
to  speak  our  assailant,  with  a  shiver  of  horror, 
had  retreated  into  his  "dug-out." 

"Thank  the  Lord  that  was  only  an  imagi- 
nary bayonet!"  Reggy  gasped;  "I  could  hear 
my  finish  ringing  the  door  bell." 

"If  we  had  been  real  Germans,  Reggy,"  I 
returned  with  conviction,  "we'd  be  running 
yet!" 

"Do  you  think  he'll  recover?"  Reggy  asked. 

"Yes.  The  attack  is  so  violent  and  sudden; 
I  think  he  has  every  chance.  We'll  send  him 
to  England  to-morrow." 

Another  month  passed.  It  was  the  night  of 
the  twenty-second  of  April  when  this  startling 
message  reached  the  hospital : 

"Empty  every  possible  bed.  Ship  all  pa- 
tients to  England.  Draw  hospital  marquees, 
beds,  blankets  and  paliasses,  and  have  your  ac- 
commodation for  patients  doubled  in  twenty- 
four  hours." 

Something  unlocked  for  had  happened.    We 
worked  like  slaves.    The  hospital  grounds  soon 
[  290  ] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

looked  like  a  miniature  tented  city.  In  half 
the  time  allotted  us  we  were  able  to  report  that 
we  were  ready  for  six  hundred  wounded. 

A  despatch  rider,  covered  with  mud,  whirled 
up  to  the  door  on  his  motorcycle.  A  little 
crowd  gathered  round  him. 

"Anything  new?"  we  asked  him  excitedly. 

"The  Canadians  are  in  one  of  the  most 
frightful  battles  of  the  war,"  he  replied.  "The 
wounded  will  be  coming  in  to-night." 

And  this  was  the  day  for  which  we  had  been 
waiting!  This  was  the  day  for  which  we  had 
crossed  the  sea !  It  w^as  as  if  an  iron  hand  had 
suddenly  gripped  the  heart  and  held  it  as  in  a 
vise.  We  asked  for  further  news,  but  he  knew 
nothing  more,  and  with  anxious  and  impatient 
minds  all  w^e  could  do  was — wait. 


[201] 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

As  the  sun  hid  its  face  on  that  tragic  evening 
of  the  twenty-second  of  April,  1915,  the  Turcos 
and  Canadians,  peering  over  their  parapets, 
were  astonished  to  see  a  heavy  yellowish  mist 
rolling  slowly  and  ominously  from  the  German 
trenches.  In  the  light  breeze  of  sundown  it 
floated  lazily  toward  them,  clinging  close  to  the 
earth.  Although  the  Turcos  thought  it  a  pe- 
culiar fog,  they  did  not  realise  its  true  sig- 
nificance until  it  rolled  into  their  trenches  and 
enveloped  them  in  its  blinding  fumes,  stinging 
their  eyes,  choking  their  lungs  and  making 
them  deathly  ill.  They  could  neither  see  nor 
breathe  and  those  who  could  not  get  away  fell 
in  heaps  where  they  were,  gasping  for  air,  blue 
in  the  face,  dying  in  the  most  frightful  agony. 

Germany,  discarding  the  last  tattered  rem- 
nant of  her  mantle  of  honour,  had  plunged 
brazenly  into  a  hideous  crime — poison-gas  had 
been  used  for  the  first  time  in  the  history  of 
war! 

[  292  ] 


THE    FIRST    CAX^VDIAXS    IN    FRANCK 

Coughing,  sneezing,  vomiting;  with  every 
hreath  cutting  like  a  knife,  crying  tears  of 
blood,  the  unfortunate  Turcos  who  had  not  al- 
ready fallen,  fled  from  the  accursed  spot.  The 
horses  too,  choking  and  startled,  whinneying 
with  fear,  stampeded  with  their  waggons  or 
gun  limbers  in  a  mad  endeavour  to  escape  the 
horror  of  the  poisoned  air.  A  storm  of  shrap- 
nel, high  explosive  and  machine-gun  bullets 
followed  the  flying  masses  and  tore  them  to 
pieces  as  they  ran. 

For  four  miles  the  Allied  trenches  w^re  left 
unprotected,  and  a  quarter  million  Germans 
who  had  been  awaiting  this  opportune  moment, 
started  to  pour  through  the  broad  gap  on  their 
drive  for  Calais. 

A  brigade  of  Canadian  artillery  in  Pope- 
ringhe  received  a  hurried  message  that  evening 
to  move  forward,  take  up  a  position  on  the 
road  near  Ypres  and  wait  for  further  orders. 
They  had  but  a  faint  notion  of  the  great  trial 
through  which  they  were  to  pass. 

When  they  arrived  at  the  point  designated 
it  was  almost  dark  and  the  noise  of  the  German 
bombardment  was  terrific.  Presently  along 
[293] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

the  road  from  Ypres  came  crowds  of  fleeing 
civilians.  Feeble  old  men  tottering  along,  tear- 
ful women  carrying  their  babes  or  dragging 
other  little  ones  by  the  hand,  invalids  in  broken 
down  waggons  or  wheel-barrows,  wounded  ci- 
vilians hastily  bandaged  and  supported  by  their 
despairing  friends  hurried  by  in  ever-increas- 
ing numbers.  Some  had  little  bundles  under 
their  arms,  some  with  packs  upon  their  backs — 
bedding,  household  goods  or  clothes,  hastily 
snatched  from  their  shattered  homes.  With 
white  terror-stricken  faces,  wringing  their 
hands,  moaning  or  crying,  they  ran  or  stag- 
gered by  in  thousands.  Their  homes  destroyed, 
their  friends  scattered  or  killed,  with  death 
behind  and  starvation  before,  they  ran,  and  the 
greedy  shells,  as  if  incensed  at  being  robbed  of 
their  prey,  came  screaming  after  them. 

To  add  to  the  confusion  and  horror  of  the 
evening,  the  Turcos,  wild-eyed  and  capless, 
having  thrown  away  their  guns  and  all  encum- 
brances, came  nmning  in  stark  terror  across 
the  fields  shouting  that  the  Germans  had 
broken  through  and  would  be  upon  them  any 
moment.  They  cried  to  the  artillery  to  escape 
while  they  yet  had  a  chance — that  all  was  lost  I 
[294] 


THE    riRST    CAX.\I)IAXS    IX    FRAXCE 

It  required  more  heroism  to  stand  before 
that  onrush  of  terrorised  humanity  than  to  face 
death  a  dozen  times  over.  To  tlie  Canadian 
artillery  these  were  the  most  tragic  and  try- 
ing hours  of  their  lives,  but  with  stolid  and 
grim  determination  they  stood  through  it,  wait- 
ing impatiently  for  the  order  to  move  forward. 

All  through  the  night  the  homeless,  despair- 
ful creatures  from  St.  Julien,  Vlamertinge, 
Ypres  and  the  villages  round  about  streamed 
by  in  a  heartrending,  bemoaning  multitude. 
Sometimes  in  agonised  fear  they  broke  through 
the  ranks  of  the  soldiers,  stumbling  onward 
toward  Poperinghe. 

The  shriek  of  shells  and  the  thunder  of  the 
guns  continued  hour  after  hour,  while  on  high 
the  vivid  glare  of  bursting  shrapnel  cast  a  weird 
unearthly  glow  over  the  land.  Between  the 
blasts  of  artillery,  from  time  to  time  on  the 
wings  of  the  wind,  human  cries  blending  in  a 
gruesome  murmur  added  to  the  horror  of  the 
night. 

Through  it  all  those  men  of  iron  stood  by 
their  guns  waiting  for  the  word  of  command. 
At  3.00  a.m.  it  came.  A  murmur  of  thankful- 
ness that  at  last  they  were  to  do  something  went 
[295] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

up,  and  in  a  twinkling  they  were  galloping 
eagerly  forward  toward  their  objective. 

They  chose  the  most  advanced  position  in 
the  line  of  guns,  close  to  the  Yser,  and  soon 
w  ere  in  their  places  ready  for  the  fight.  Shells 
fell  about  them  in  thousands,  but  the  men 
happy  to  be  in  the  thick  of  the  battle  turned 
to  their  guns  with  a  will  and  worked  like  mad. 

The  dawn  broke,  but  there  was  no  cessation 
of  the  fight.  The  guns  became  hot,  and 
screeched  complainingly  as  each  shell  tore 
through  the  swollen  muzzle,  but  still  there  was 
no  reprieve  or  rest,  and  all  day  long  they 
belched  forth  smoke  and  death  over  the  Yser's 
bank. 

When  the  Germans  commenced  to  pour 
through  the  gap  which  their  treacherous  gas 
had  made,  they  overlooked  one  important  ob- 
stacle. On  their  left  were  the  men  who  had 
lived  through  four  months  of  misery  in  the  rain 
and  mud  of  Salisbury  Plains,  each  day  laying 
up  a  bigger  score  against  the  Bosches  for  set- 
tlement. 

With  this  unhappy  memory,  it  was  not  likely 
that  the  First  Canadians  were  to  be  ousted 
[296] 


THE    FIliST    CANADIANS    IN    TKANCE 

from  their  trenches  or  killed  by  gas  alone  with- 
out a  struggle  for  revenge.  For  some  reason 
only  their  left  wing  had  received  an  extreme 
dose  of  the  gas.  ]Many  fell  and  died,  but  those 
who  remained  stuffed  handkerchiefs  into  their 
mouths,  covered  their  noses  and  held  on  like 
grim  death  for  the  great  attack  they  knew  was 
coming.  They  had  not  long  to  wait.  JNIost  of 
them  had  never  seen  the  enemy  before,  and  the 
sight  of  thousands  of  Germans  marching  for- 
ward in  dense  masses  was  to  Tommy  a  distinct 
and  unlocked  for  pleasure.  But  on  they  came 
in  a  multitude  so  great  that  it  looked  as  if  no 
guns  on  earth  could  mow  them  down. 

In  spite  of  the  sight  of  these  great  numbers, 
it  was  with  the  utmost  difficulty  that  the  offi- 
cers could  restrain  their  men  from  rushing  out 
at  the  enemy  with  the  bayonet.  Tommy  ar- 
gued: "Between  Salisbury  Plains  and  Wipers 
we've  been  stuck  in  the  mud  for  six  months, 
never  so  much  as  seeing  the  nose  of  a  German, 
and  now  here  they  come,  just  asking  to  be 
killed  and  you  won't  let  us  get  out  at  them!" 
The  mere  fact  of  being  outnumbered  twenty 
times  over  didn't  seem  sufficient  excuse  to  dis- 
appointed Tommy  for  remaining  under  cover. 
[297] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS   IN    FRANCE 

Myriads  of  self-satisfied  Bosches  came 
inarching  past,  as  though  the  world  were  theirs. 
They  were  due  for  a  rude  awakening.  They 
had  not  progressed  far  when  the  extreme  vio- 
lence of  the  counter  attack  caused  them  to 
pause  in  irresolute  wonder.  Who  were  these 
bold,  desperate  men  who  dared  remain  in  the 
trenches  when  half  an  army  had  passed?  No 
army  in  its  senses  would  remain  with  unpro- 
tected flank.  There  must  be  tremendous  rein- 
forcements at  their  back — so  reasoned  the  Ger- 
mans. To  stay  with  one  wing  "in  the  air" 
seemed  too  much  madness  even  for  the  "un- 
trained" Canadians. 

But  one  thing  was  clear  to  the  Teuton  mind; 
whoever  they  were,  they  were  a  decided  menace 
to  their  advance  and  must  be  annihilated  or 
forced  back  at  all  costs  before  the  German 
Army  could  progress.  But  what  a  lot  of  anni- 
hilating they  seemed  to  take ! 

The  third  brigade  swung  across  the  enemy's 
flank  and  poured  such  a  withering  fire  in- 
to the  Bosches  that  they  were  sore  pressed, 
with  all  their  horde,  to  hold  their  own.  Men 
and  guns  were  fighting  back  to  back,  grimly, 
[298] 


THE    riRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

determinedly,  unflinchingly  and  with  invincible 
valour. 

The  enemy  artillery  now  had  command  of  the 
main  road  to  Ypres,  and  of  many  of  the  lesser 
roads,  and  was  keeping  up  a  hellish  fire  on  all 
to  prevent  reinforcements  or  supplies  from 
reaching  the  Canadians. 

All  that  night  our  plucky  men  fought  them 
off,  driving  them  back  through  the  woods. 
They  retook  four  captured  guns.  All  the  next 
day,  thousands  w^ithout  food  or  water  fought 
side  by  side  with  unconquerable  spirit.  In  im- 
possible positions,  raked  by  enemy  shell  fire, 
without  chance  to  eat  or  sleep,  they  held  on  and 
tore  at  the  Germans  like  angry  wolves,  fight- 
ing with  such  unheard  of  ferocity  that  their 
opponents  were  absolutely  staggered. 

If  a  seemingly  hopeless  message  came  from 
headquarters  to  a  battalion:  "Can  you  hold  on 
a  few  hours  longer?",  back  would  come  the 
answer  piping  hot:  "We  can!" 

Again  and  again  the  doubting  question  came 
to  the  trenches:  "Can  you  still  hold  on?",  and 
again  and  again  returned  the  same  enhearten- 
ing  reply:  "We  can  and  will  hold  on!" 

Then  an  unheard  of  thing  occurred — neglect 
[299] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

of  an  order.  The  message  from  headquarters, 
couched  in  generous  words,  read:  "You  have 
done  all  that  human  power  can  do.  Your  posi- 
tion is  untenable.    You  must  retreat !" 

A  flush  of  disdainful  anger  swept  over  the 
officer's  face  as  he  read  this  message,  and  he 
replied  in  three  words :    "Retreat  be  damned !" 

The  Canadians  had  not  learned  the  meaning 
of  the  word  "retreat."  It  had  been  left  out  of 
their  martial  vocabulary — some  one  was  re- 
sponsible for  this  omission.  The  Germans  tried 
to  teach  them  its  meaning  with  gas,  with  bayo- 
net and  with  shell;  but  thick-headed  Tommy 
and  his  officers  always  misunderstood  it  for 
"hold"  or  "advance."  It  took  four  days  of 
starvation  and  four  sleepless,  awful  nights  to 
make  the  most  intelligent  amongst  them  un- 
derstand the  word,  and  even  then  it  was  a  scant 
concession  to  the  Bosche. 

Little  bands  of  men,  the  remnants  of  daunt- 
less battalions,  holding  isolated,  advanced 
points,  were  commanded  to  fall  back  in  order 
to  straighten  out  the  line.  But  the  brave  fel- 
lows who  had  so  gallantly  defended  their  posts, 
were  loath  to  give  them  up.  Unnerved,  weak 
and  exhausted,  they  still  wanted  to  remain,  and 
[300] 


THE    FIRST    CAX^VDIANS    IX    FRANCE 

when  their  officers  insisted  on  their  leaving, 
some  actually  sat  down  in  the  trench  and  wept 
bitter  tears  of  humiliation  and  chagrin. 

During  these  four  fateful  days  British  and 
French  reinforcements  had  been  rushed  up  to 
fill  the  gap,  and  further  German  progress  was 
impossible.  Harassed  from  the  flank,  beaten 
back  from  the  front,  decimated  and  discour- 
aged, the  Germans  had  suffered  a  disastrous 
and  momentous  defeat — for  to  them  Calais, 
their  greatest  hope,  was  irretrievably  lost. 

During  the  great  battle  the  Field  Ambu- 
lance in  which  Jack  AVellcombe  was  stationed 
was  working  night  and  day  at  fever  pitch. 
Time  and  again  the  German  guns  sought  out 
their  quarters  and  big  shells  levelled  to  earth 
the  houses  round  about;  but,  as  if  the  hand  of 
Providence  were  watching  them,  the  little  field 
hospital  escaped  with  its  patients  each  time, 
just  before  the  buildings  were  wrecked. 

Five  times  during  the  three  days  this  for- 
tunate move  was  accomplished  not  a  moment 
too  soon,  but  still  they  stuck  doggedly  to  the 
village,  as  close  as  possible  to  the  gims.  Sleep 
was  out  of  the  question.  Fven  if  the  noise 
[  301   ] 


THE   FIRST    CANADIANS   IN   FRANCE 


and  imminent  danger  might  have  been  ignored, 
the  streams  of  wounded  coming  in  had  to  re- 
ceive attention,  and  during  those  frightful  days 
no  man  flinched  before  his  precarious  and  ardu- 
ous duty. 

In  the  seventeen  consecutive  days  and  nights 
of  the  artillery  battle  there  was  never  a  full 
minute's  break  in  the  bombardment  from  either 
side. 

On  the  fourth  day,  during  the  lull  in  the 
infantry  fighting,  the  door  of  the  field  ambu- 
lance was  suddenly  darkened  by  the  figure  of  a 
man.  He  staggered  in.  His  eyes  were  blood- 
shot. His  clothes  were  torn  and  covered  with 
mud,  his  chin  had  not  been  shaved  for  days 
and  his  appearance  betokened  utter  weariness 
and  exhaustion. 

Jack  Wellcombe  met  him  at  the  door  and,  in 
spite  of  his  unkempt  and  wild  appearance,  rec- 
ognised him  at  once  as  the  Commanding  Officer 
of  a  Canadian  battalion. 

"Good  morning,  sir,"  he  said  in  his  usual 
cheery  manner. 

The  colonel  looked  toward  him  with  glazed, 
unseeing  eyes  and  without  a  sign  of  recogni- 
tion. 

[302] 


THE    FIEST    CAX^U)IAXS    IN    FRANCE 

"I  want  four  coffins,"  he  muttered,  ignoring 
Jack's  greeting. 

"You  want  what,  sir?"  Jack  exclaimed,  with 
a  puzzled  look. 

"Four  coffins,"  he  repeated  with  mechanical 
firmness  and  in  a  tone  of  command,  "and  I 
want  them  at  once!" 

"Come  in,  sir,  and  sit  down,"  Jack  urged. 
"You're  unnerved  from  this  wild  fight  and  lack 
of  sleep.    You  need  a  rest — not  a  coffin." 

"I  know  what  I  want,"  he  repeated  with 
calm  insistence,  "and  it's  four  coffins — to  bury 
four  of  my  officers." 

Jack  thought  the  man's  reason  had  gone  as 
a  result  of  the  terrific  strain,  but  decided  to 
humour  him. 

"Come  over  to  my  billet  with  me  and  get  a 
shave,  a  wash  and  a  good  glass  of  grog,  and 
then  when  j^ou're  feeling  better  we'll  go  out 
together  and  get  what  you  want,  and  I'll  go 
back  to  the  lines  with  you." 

The  colonel  passed  his  hand  across  his  fore- 
head as  though  he  were  trying  without  success 
to  recollect  something,  and  then  without  a  word 
suffered  Jack  to  take  his  arm  and  lead  him 
away.  When  they  arrived  ut  uie  ^T/'^*"  Jack 
[303] 


THE   FIRST    Cx\Nx\DIANS   IN    FRANCE 

gave  him  a  stiff  glass  of  brandy  and  asked  him 
to  lie  down  while  the  water  was  being  heated 
for  his  bath.  Before  it  was  ready  he  had  fallen 
sound  asleep  and  Jack  did  not  disturb  him  for 
a  couple  of  hours,  when  he  was  aroused  with 
difficulty. 

The  batman  meanwhile  brushed  the  caked 
mud  from  his  clothes,  and  by  the  time  he  had 
had  a  bath  and  a  shave  and  a  bite  of  lunch  he 
had  begun  to  look  more  like  himself.  He 
seemed  greatly  depressed  and  talked  little;  he 
was  like  a  man  walking  in  his  sleep  and  still 
in  the  throes  of  a  gruesome  nightmare. 

As  they  started  off  up  the  street  of  the  vil- 
lage Jack  remarked:  "You  don't  really  want 
those  coffins  for  which  you  asked  me  this  morn- 
ing, do  you?" 

The  colonel  looked  uncomprehendingly  at 
him.  Without  answering  the  question,  he 
asked  in  return: 

"Is  there  a  florist's  shop  in  the  village?" 

"Well,  not  exactly  a  'florist's,' "  Jack  replied, 
"but  there  is  a  place  at  the  far  end  of  the 
street  where  we  might  get  some  flowers." 

"Let  us  go  there!" 

He  spoke  no  further  word  until  they  arrived 
[304] 


THE    FIRST    CAX.VUIANS    IN    IRAXCE 

at  the  little  house  which  Jack  pointed  out  as  a 
likely  place.  They  entered  the  room  and  after 
some  shght  delay  madame  produced  a  vase 
filled  with  deep  red  roses.  The  colonel  selected 
four  of  the  largest,  paid  the  woman  and  with- 
out a  comment  walked  out  with  the  roses  in 
his  hand. 

"Get  me  a  motor  car,"  he  said  to  Jack;  "we 
have  several  miles  to  go." 

The  mechanical  transport  supplied  them 
with  a  small  car  and  they  started  on  their 
strange  mission.  They  pulled  up  a  few  miles 
back  of  the  firing  line  and  tramped  silently 
across  the  fields,  the  colonel  still  clutching  the 
roses,  until  they  came  to  a  spot  where  a  num- 
ber of  Tommies  were  standing  by  four  open 
graves  which  they  had  just  dug.  Beside  the 
graves  rested  four  shapeless  bundles  covered 
with  blankets. 

"Do  you  know  the  burial  service?"  the 
colonel  asked  Jack  suddenly. 

"I'm  afraid  I  don't  remember  it  w^ell  enough 
to  repeat  it,"  Jack  replied. 

"It  doesn't  matter  much,"  he  went  on 
thoughtfully,  "I  can  say  it  myself." 

The  men  got  ready  with  their  ropes  to  lower 
[305] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

the  packages,  one  by  one,  into  their  respective 
resting  places.  It  was  all  that  was  left  of  four 
gallant  officers  of  a  gallant  battalion.  The 
colonel  repeated  the  burial  service  from  mem- 
ory, word  for  word: 

"Ashes  to  ashes — dust  to  dust  .  .  ." 
But  before  the  earth  closed  over  them  he 
stood  at  the  foot  of  each  grave,  silent  as  the 
grave  itself,  and  dropping  a  rose  tenderly  upon 
each  stood  at  attention,  his  right  hand  at  the 
"salute."  As  the  earth  fell  dully  upon  the 
blankets  he  turned  away  with  tears  in  his  eyes 
and  said  simply: 

"Poor  brave  chaps!    I  loved  them  all !    God 
keep  them.     They  did  their  duty!" 


It  was  ten  o'clock  at  night  as  Reggy  and  I, 
crossing  the  tracks  at  the  Gave  Maritime  in 
Boulogne,  saw  a  battalion  which  had  just  dis- 
embarked from  the  cross-channel  boat  drawn 
up  on  the  quay,  ready  to  entrain  for  the  front. 

We  walked  toward  them  in  a  spirit  of  idle 
curiosity — for  the  sight  was  one  to  which  we 
were  well  accustomed — when,  under  the  dim 
light  of  a  partly  shaded  street  lamp,  we  no- 
ticed that  they  were  from  home.  We  ap- 
[306] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

proached  a  little  group  of  officers  who  were 
chatting  animatedly  together,  and  among  them 
found  several  whom  we  knew. 

"What's  the  truth  ahout  this  big  show  the 
Canadians  are  in  at  the  front?"  one  cried. 
"There  are  all  sorts  of  rumours  in  England. 
Some  say  eight  hundred  casualties;  some  say 
eight  thousand/' 

"I'm  afraid  eight  thousand  is  nearer  the 
mark,"  I  replied  hesitatingly,  fearing  to  dis- 
courage them. 

"Eight  thousand!"  he  echoed;  and  then  an 
eager  cry  went  up  from  the  little  group : 

"By  Jove!  Hope  they'll  hurry  us  on  to  the 
front!" 

And  I  was  afraid  of  discouraging  them! 
How  little  I  understood  my  own  countrymen! 

"All  aboard !"  came  the  call  a  moment  later, 
and  the  enthusiastic  Tommies  eagerly  clam- 
])ered  into  the  waiting  coaches.  As  the  train 
clank-clanked  along  the  street  and  left  us 
standing  there  alone  in  the  darkness,  back  to 
our  ears  came  the  familiar  but  ribald  strain  of 
"Hail,  hail,  the  gang's  all  here!" 

No  matter  in  what  strange  words  it  may  find 
[  307  ] 


THE    FIRST    CANADIANS    IN    FRANCE 

vent,  the  care-free  spirit  of  song  is  the  true 
spirit  of  the  army. 

"You  can't  discourage  men  like  that,"  said 
Reggy  with  a  smile  half  amusement  and  half 
unconscious  pride. 

And  each  occupied  with  his  own  thoughts 
we  turned  and  walked  silently  down  the  quay. 


THE  END 


[308] 


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